#which goes hand in hand with him taking on the Other Memory - the collective psyches of his royal blood ancestors and Reverend Mothers past

[stvlti]

Something something Paul drinking the Water of Life to kill his individual self is ego death in the original sense of the word

[jeannereames]

It is with great sadness that I report the passing of Peter Green, giant in Classics. He died this last Monday morning (9/16/24) at the ripe old age of 99. He was born the same year as both my parents.

Peter was not only a very fine scholar, but also a damn good writer--which isn't always true of historians. He wrote historical fiction (no, really, he did: The Laughter of Aphrodite, about Sappho, and Achilles, His Armor, about Alkibiades). And he wrote some quite excellent collections of essays: In the Shadow of the Parthenon and Classical Bearings. His Alexander to Actium--a monster book about the Hellenistic Age big enough to choke a mule--actually made money for U-Cal Press. Not common for academic books, especially of that size!

I have issues with Peter's take on Alexander, I'll be honest. In fact, it was his cheeky summary of Hephaistion as "Tall, handsome, spoilt, spiteful, overbearing and fundamentally stupid" that made the little Hephaistion sit up in my head and object: "I wasn't like that!"

And that launched a dissertation. So in a backhanded way, you can thank Peter for my work on Hephaistion.

But I want to tell you about the other Peter I knew, a genuinely helpful, friendly, and likable guy. He and his wife (Classicist) Carin Green were long-time friends of Gene Borza (my academic father) and Kathleen Pavelko (Gene's now-widow). Born in the UK, he had mid-century British Classicist training mixed with some very progressive politics that might surprise.

He also gave me the best (academic) edit job I've ever received, in now 25 years of publishing. Together with Gene, I gave a paper at the then-APA (now-SCS), which ended up becoming my first (co-authored) publication, "Some New Thoughts on the Death of Alexander the Great." Peter was there to hear, and came up after to congratulate us then quiz me about my psych background and the info I'd brought on grieving. Gene told him about the chapter in my dissertation on Alexander's mourning, and Peter said, "Send me that chapter" for Selecta Classica, of which he was editor. I warned it was long. (To the tune of 60 pages in manuscript!)

But I sent it. And he took it. Then did the edits (both academic and literary) himself. It was fantastic. I quibbled on two things. First, commas. Ha. But second, he insisted everything go back into Greek without some translations, contending anybody reading it would know the Greek. I objected. I lost. I still think that was a mistake, but it was also evidence of that mid-century Brit Classicist that assumed the only people reading it would be other Classicists.

But folks, he made that first (solo) article of mine so much better, forcing me to clarify problematic phrasing, elaborate where I'd been too brief, etc. And he did it with a light hand that allowed my own voice to come through. He became my model of How to Be A Good Academic Editor. When I edit today, I have him in mind.

Peter, thank you for all you've done, not just in print, but as a human being and mentor to young scholars, like me. I'll pour a little libation of good red wine in your memory.

With his passing goes the last of that generation of Macedoniasts.

[an-exotic-writer]

jungkook; ready to love (you, officially)

❝you asked: “what happens when i want to be more than friends?” / jungkook said, when that day comes, you grab him by the face and kiss the life out of him. that day came. ►2440 words // scenario, continuation of ‘when you’re ready to love’ written for @astaegmatism​ ♡ well, i read this the other day and ya know, i just felt like writing a sequel to this so here it goes *finger guns* // i actually finished it lol, here it is if anyone wants to read! ;w;

Ever since that day at the rooftop with Jungkook, not a day goes by since that you haven’t thought about that incident. It replays at random moments without you knowing. Well, maybe subconsciously you’re constantly thinking about it but that’s not fair. How are you supposed to control something you’re not meant to?

Maybe you deserve it, you think to yourself. Jungkook has made it clear that he’s interested in you and it’s not like you’re not interested in him. You are! Saying that you’re interested in him would be an understatement and yet... it’s been three months and you haven’t made up your mind.

What confuses you even more?

It’s how Jungkook doesn’t pressure you into anything. Sure, he teases you every now and then but you know he’s not genuinely pressing or rushing you for an answer or a change of heart. He’s... gentle, with the way he handles the conversation when you bring it up (because it gets overwhelming when you think about it at night and Jungkook-)

“...you’ve gone pretty quiet, Y/N,” Jungkook muses over the phone and you now remember that you were on a phone call with the guy. There’s no point hiding it, because Jungkook can tell how you’re feeling (sometimes) just by hearing your breathing pattern. How it starts to tremble with each exhale, unknowingly Jungkook has learnt it meant you were anxious about something.

“Y-Yeah, I’m just... thinking,” Your voice is shaking and you’re certain your hands would be too if you were holding your phone to your ear but luckily, you’re lying on the bed and your phone is on speaker beside your ear. Almost, you feel like it would be nice if he was laying here with you. And just at that thought, it makes you wonder if... if you’re finally ready to be more than just friends with the boy who upon first meeting, squished a portion of cake to your cheeks as a friendly way of trying to call you sweet. (don’t remind Jungkook, he still feels bad at almost traumatizing you when you first met)

“About?”

Here comes one of the many things Jungkook adores about you. Straight to the point, no sugar-coating and no bush in sight to beat around. Well, it’s usually polar opposites. Either you would beat the bush to death and the generations after that, or you go straight to the point and snap the leaf to write your answer directly.

“...you,”

This was the latter.

"What about me?” Jungkook tries to sound collected, but based on how his voice pitches, you can tell he’s getting nervous.

“I... I’m just confused. I know I really like you,”—Jungkook’s heart skip a beat—“but a part of me still feels like I’m not ready and I feel bad because I don’t want you to keep wait-”

"You’re not keeping me waiting, Y/N,” Jungkook cuts you off before you spiral off into a monologue that doesn’t need to happen, which is why he’s cutting you off now. (He usually waits to hear you out but he’s skipping past that because he’s heard this before so he might as well reassure you now)

He hears a gasp because you’re surprised, and he knows you are but you keep silent to hear his train of thought.

“I’m simply in love with you and... I can feel that you feel the same way too. If the day comes when you’re ready to reciprocate that openly, I’m more than willing to be with you. It’s not like things would change between us, we’re just going to get mushier—is mushier a word? Ah, whatever,”

There’s a small pause of silence, it evokes Jungkook to ask: “You there?”

“...how is that not waiting for me, Jeon?”

He chuckles at the confusion in your voice. He has this image of you furrowing your brows and having puffed up cheeks from being confused.

Here you lie in bed, with furrowed brows and puffed cheeks.

“Because I know I’m already in your heart, it’s just going to take some time before you get comfortable with me being there, and hopefully accept that… or not, that’s all up to you,”

“How do you know you’re in my heart?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“N-Nope, ’m good.”

Jungkook didn’t know if he helped you or not that night, but based on how you didn’t say anything to combat that, he finds comfort in knowing at least he’s somewhat right.

You slept with ease that night.

//

The days after that have been... more confusing than you thought. It confused you so much that the more you thought about it, the more it pissed you off. What the fuck is going on?

Trudging out of bed, you find yourself standing in front of your reflection. Next to it is a photo of you and Jungkook, not even aware that a friend was capturing a moment the two of you shared. The longer you stared at it, the more it reminded you of why you were mad in the first place.

Mad at… yourself!

With a newfound confidence that struck out of nowhere, it was time.

Fucking hell was it time.

You can’t handle it any longer and you’re done trying to make up your mind or settle for an answer that leaves you wavering the next day.

It was time to observe.

To be Detective Conan—alright screw Jungkook’s references.

//

You spent a week keeping your distance from Jungkook.

Okay, that sounds serious but by keeping your distance, it was rather… taking note of how your mind reacted around him. Of course, it was easier said than done when the boy is constantly trying to be close to you, pick at your brain, “casually” hold your bag for you and running off so you’d chase him up to the rooftop where you’d conveniently waste two hours of staring at the abyss of the world alongside him.

Boy oh boy did you take mental notes, and when you typed them out for yourself to read through at the end of the week, it was clear that—“That piece of shit…”

For two weeks, you had wrote down thoughts you’ve had of him and let’s just say… they accumulated to more than your notepad on your phone could handle because you’re scrolling, and scrolling and scrolling. As you go through them, the recollection flashes in your mind, playing like a projector.

Jeon likes to drink Americano from this café.

He bought the bouquet of flowers for graduation from this florist.

We got caught in the rain and was stuck in that phonebooth for an hour because we’re both too stubborn to get out.

Jeon’s fave café.

Jeon’s fave park to go jogging.

Jeon—

The list continues, listing all the details about him and more details about him that… strangely enough, you’ve never noticed you remembered. And… the more you seem to remember, the more… memories you want to create with him. It hits you why it’s… it’s taken you this long to realise your infatuation with him. Jungkook was that slow burn that made you love him more and more each day without you realizing. How you wanted to see him each day, and when a day goes by without seeing him, it aches for you to be without him.

Jungkook was right when he said he was already in your heart.

You didn’t know when, and you didn’t know how but… he was already there. He made his way through when you didn’t expect him to. He’s been patient and sincere with his presence and… the way he genuinely just wants what’s best for you. He… you… you like him.

You… fell in love with your best friend, too.

//

Jungkook smiles when he sees your name on his caller ID. He grips onto his phone properly to swipe across the screen, just to say: “What do I owe the pleasure, Y/N?”

“Jeon, wherever you are,” It sounds like you’re breathing really heavily, “Don’t move,”

His brows furrow, “Is everything alright? You good?”

“I’ll come to you!” You exclaim, and he’s laughing. “Do you know where I am?”

He snorts.

“Oh yeah,” Now it sounds like you’ve stopped walking when the soles of your shoes screech on the pavement ever so lightly, “Where are you by the way?”

//

“Jeon!” Your voice echoes across the field, penetrating straight into his ears as he whips around, only to grin like a fool. His eyes form mini crescents at the sight of you running up to him. He holds his arms out to stable you when you’re within reach. His hands grip onto your sides with a soft easy there tiger and when you’re grounded in front of him, trying to catch your breath, his smile only grows bigger.

“What’s up?”

Your fists clench by your sides, feeling your insides tumble about. Thousands of butterflies are probably somersaulting in there and the whole zoo has come to watch how your nerves jolt about in anticipation to what you’re about to do. You’ve had only this thought in your mind through your whole journey to reach him. Now that you’re finally in front of him, you’re trying to psyche yourself up.

Almost as if you’re trying to be your own hype man to… to…

“Hello? Earth to Miss—”

“I’m going to do something to you, Jeon,” You swallow the lump in your throat, and this is where Jungkook’s smile slowly fades. His face morphs into one of confusion instead.

“G-Good or bad?”

Okay, this is throwing you off a little.

“What’d you mean?”

“Well… what you’re going to do to me, is it good or bad? Do I need to cover up somewhere it really hurts?”

The both of you trail down to… his nether region where his hands slowly move to cover it (because there has been a history of you kicking him with not-so-ladylike strength that one time he took a prank too far and he owns up to say he deserves it—not that he’s done anything this time, he’s just being cautious).

“What? N-No!” You’re frustrated at this point, running your fingers through your hair in annoyance, but you know what? It’s working. Your nerves are worked up enough for you to gather the courage brewing in your guts that you close the distance between the pair of you.

Suddenly, it feels like the world slows down.

Your hands rest upon his shoulders and instinctively, Jungkook’s hands dart out to steady you by your waist, afraid you’d topple over and get hurt. His eyes widen when you lean in to press your lips together. Your name is muttered against your lips, drowned out by the gasp that follows soon after from him.

His hands, clutches onto you tight—as tight as your hands are on his shoulders. Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, in unison with yours. Your body tenses when you don’t feel a reaction, and that gets you to peel your eyes open and break away from the kiss. That triggers him to act upon his feelings for once, after holding back for the longest time, this is the one-time Jungkook allows himself to do what he wants.

He snakes his arms around your waist to pull you closer, making your breath hitch. He chases for your lips and he kisses you back. He kisses you with everything he has in fear this could be the first, and last time it would happen. He feels his heart burst into warmth when your hands move to circle around his neck to pull him close, as if the both of you weren’t already. You feel his tongue brush against yours ever-so-delicately and the vibrations of his lips when your fingers rake through his hair.

He intends to continue, but you have yet to say what you’ve been wanting to that you gently nudge him back with a hand on his chest, the other still hooked around his shoulders.

“J-Jeon, I have something to say,” You’re a little breathless, disorganized, but altogether too beautiful for him to handle with your slightly red, plump lips and hazy eyes looking into his own. He chuckles and cups your chin gently, brushing your lower lip with his thumb as his other hand keeps you rooted.

“Yeah?”

“I… I like you,”

Jungkook chuckles, softly, almost whispering as he breathes out: “I like you too,”

He licks his lips and his eyes trail down to yours, before gazing back up to your eyes when he has a feeling there’s more you’re about to say. His thumb gently rubs circles against your hip bone, while his other hand that was previously on your chin, moves to join his other arm around your waist.

“And…” You heave out a deep breath, blinking up to him, “I-I want to be more than just friends,”

Jungkook knows where this is going, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to have fun.

“So… best friends?”

Instantly your face turns upside down with frustration and Jungkook quickly pacifies you with a kiss. And a couple more pecks to bring a smile to your face, mirroring his own smile before he tugs you into his arms. His arms band around you so tight, it feels like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. He presses a small kiss to your temple, whispering, “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that,”

You’re grinning against his chest, arms wrapping around him just as tight.

“So… we’re…”

He strokes your head gently, closing his eyes to savor this moment.

“We’re still best friends,” He says, “Best friends who like each other a lot but this time,” You lean back a little, just to look up to him looking down on you,

“T-This time?” Your voice is soft, so soft that it’s only for his ears only. That alone, makes Jungkook’s heart do a lot of things in a heartbeat.

“This time, from this day onwards, you’re also my girlfriend.”

((“jeon…?”

“hm?” he turns his gaze from the sky the both of you have been laying under, gazing into your eyes as he plays with your hair.

“’m sorry it took me so long,”

he tuts with the shaking of his head, darting over to give you a long kiss to your lips.

“don’t be, don’t ever say that. it’s my fault for falling so quickly for you,” he wiggles his brows and you try to push him away, only for him to reel you in closer.))

[nemuitoka]

What are your favorte jshk fanfics? also where do you like reading them the most?

Hi Anon!!! today is the day I can finally answer this question😈 ahaha you know how much I enjoy making fic recs so 👀 Let’s go!!!

To answer your second question first, I like reading them on AO3 the most! Mostly because I get almost unlimited number of characters to rant in the comment section........... 😆but also the tagging system is very helpful.

Okay, now to the fun part of this ask😏

You said JSHK, but I mostly read Hananene ones so all of my favs include that pairing... as  I already did a fic rec here of my favs, this list will continue that one, so please check that one first hehe ((I apologize in advance..., I would love for people to recommend me some mitsukou ones tbh... I’m really lost when it comes to other pairings orz)) 

If I’m completely honest with you anon-san, my favorite JSHK fic right now is the one Roxanne ( @istoleyourboat )  wrote based of my art and her snippet:

Star-Crossed and Falling- Where Stars Go to Die by lilaflo

Hanako is Princess Nene’s personal knight 👀. A tale of forbidden love. They slowly fall in love as they exchange a series of gifts, one that includes a pair of matching earrings that remind them of their love when they’re apart. Also, jelly Hanako of Nene’s suitors😏... Oh, but nothing lasts forever and those sweet moments will come to an end when they have to face their cruel reality, in this world, they don’t get to choose neither their battles or the ones they love.

Now more of Roxanne, because I seriously enjoy her work so much (I’m sure everyone knows by now lmao sdkj) 

Night of the Phantom King by lilaflo 

This one is a spooky one. Nene’s regret for never realizing who she truly loves takes her to mourn her deceased friend Amane and cry on his grave in a Halloween night, then suddenly the Phantom King comes to take her away👀 & he looks suspiciously familiar... Beautiful world building btw, also the ending is just, excellent. 

12 Year Romance by lilaflo

Amane meets Nene at the Tanabata festival, she’s older than him, but he falls for her instantly, fast forward, Amane is now in middle school, he’s a troublemaker, & gets constantly into fights, but he swears the new school nurse looks familiar... he then realizes it’s her and thinks it must be fate!!!... This one hits close to home bc I’ve been in this situation irl, so I can confirm all of Nene’s struggles are real (and ofc how a love with an age gap should be handled the correct way, this fic really teaches you many life lessons hahaha) 

took a sip then another sip, then you turned and said to me by chivalrousamour 

This autor has a bunch of good JSHK fics!! I recommend you check their AO3 out, bec you may find something you like for sure! But, this is my absolute fav from them. Nene is a mangaka, celebrating the finishing of her long serialized manga, while Amane is a delivery boy who happens to find her in a very questionable state in her house👀 (it’s all family friendly ofc, anon, I’m not a slimy pervert like some ghost boy)

Maid for Each Other by corologs ( @corologs )

Courtney has this amazing College AU collection series that I encourage you to check out!!! But Maid for each other is my fav!!! So it’s the Yugi twins birthday, and it’s Tsukasa’s turn to choose where they go to celebrate it... you can already tell where this is going... (let the chaos begin) & as the title said, it involves maids!!! (it has Kaicho wa maid sama vibes if you liked that anime~~)

If I Could Tell Her by corologs

What if the picture perfect arc plan was successful??? Well, this fic explores this idea, and it’s very interesting to read. I like how Amane and Hanako are two separate people here.

the horizon tries but it’s just not as kind on the eyes by sincerelyand ( @sunlightinourheadlights ) 

(Oh my sweet Karen, she writes such good fics, so go check her AO3 out as well!!) Amane and Yashiro are friends that share an apartment (& they were roommates-- OMG they were roommates), even if Amane has its complains, because Nene can be a handful sometimes (and in denial of her true feelings as always, are we even surprised at this point?) he loves her dearly anyways😭.

for real, this time by sourlemoncandy  ( @sour-lemon-candy )

Did somebody say fake dating AU?????? Because hell yeah I did asajj I loved reading this so much!! Nene and Amane are childhood friends, and Nene overhears some girls talking about Amane and how one of them plans to ask him out... but she senses these girls are up to no good so she... well, you gotta read it to find out more~~ it’s no fun If I tell ya everything hehe... so go go go!!

lemon cream by sourlemoncandy

Amane and Nene, just two good friends having a road trip and sharing donuts... what could go wrong??  😏 seriously, I loved this fic so much!! Instant fav! Also makes me wanna try some good sweet donuts...

Trip Down Memory Lane by insipidenvy ( @insipidenvy )

This fic is so sweet. I have such a huge attachment to it, because I read it when I really needed some fluff in my life hahaha. It’s sort of a collection of memories between Amane and Yashiro’s relationship over the years. So heartwarming... if you need the fluffs you’ll enjoy this very much!!

The Radish Princess and the Toilet Prince by insipidenvy

This is my favorite fic from insipidenvy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You know how I am a slut for Royalty AUs so that’s why!!!!! Also Toilet Prince!! hahahaha such a good nickname lmao. I love how they bond over their insecurities, it’s very relatable tbh. 

Between Wind and Water by WingSongHalo  ( @wingsonghalo )

My beautiful Wing always delivering the good Hananene content, as she should!! This fic is so fun to read!! I laughed so hard at Nene and Hanako being awkward with each other!!! So you know how Hanako is super clingy with Nene, he’s always touching & hugging her, but this time something weird happens and he’s so distant~~ Nene doesn’t want to admit it at first, but she misses his clingy ghost boy~~ you’ll have a good time reading this for sure!  

The Monster's Bride by Hammsters ( @uglierdaikon )

Have you heard about the myth of Cupid and Psyche? Well this fic rewrites it in a very Hananene way <3 hehe I loved it so much (as I’m a huge fan of mythology~) To sum it up, Nene is fated to marry a monster that lives in the mountains so she’s devastated... to her surprise, her husband is far from what she expected... she only had one rule to obey and well... we all know how reckless Nene is so... you go find out what happens next now!! hehehe

Morning Reflections by FalalalaLa  ( @miss-sternennacht )

So you’ve heard of Hanako watching Nene sleep, but what about Nene watching Amane sleep???!! this fic offers you this and so much more fluff <3 Also Nene remembering how they met and how their relationship evolved during the years, aww <3 

Cursed Coin by DaikonSenpai  ( @daikonsenpai )

There’s a school dance, Yashiro’s supposed to be dancing with Kou (since she can’t go with Hanako, which causes him to be jelly~~ and bitter), but she loses a coin Aoi gave her for good luck so she goes out and searches for it on the last place she saw it, the school fountain. Suddenly Hanako spots her, what’s she doing outside??? is she drunk or something?? what happens next you may find out when you read it~~~

Between Love and Hope by Baronesscmd (SweeterThanYourDarkestSin) ( @baronesscmd )

Oh to be Nene and get to sleep between the Yugi twins... God really has favorites uh... ISTG, this collection of fics is so cute. I love how Nene loves the twins so much in this AU, they have their little cute family. She ofc is in love with Amane, but their relationship with Tsukasa is so tender... it’s mostly this trio having fluffy moments together to heal your soul... if you need some, you’ll get it here for sure hahaha. 

Ghost of You (And All the Futures We've Forgotten) by Indigo_Floof  milkteamoon  ( @indigosienna , @spades-queen )

So anon you may have been wondering, well this bitch likes fluff only???? how about some angst for a change, uh? DAMN, OKAY THEN, here you have some angst to rip your soul out and wish you never sent me this ask in the 1st place, bec of the emotional damage this fic will leave you sdajjsa, also if you liked “Erased”, you’ll love this fic too! 

Hanako of the Opera by zxrstan

Finally, but not less important, me being annoying about Hanako of the Opera & POTO AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!! This fic is based of the AU Aidairo created mostly, it’s really fun to read if you didn’t get much of what was happening during the Hanako of the Opera event, it has a nice ending also! very satisfying I must say. 

AAAAND THIS IS THE END OF MY ALL TIME FAV LIST OMG;;;; Kudos for me for searching through all my damn AO3 and Google Chrome history (from both my PC and phone, since I am a FOOL and forgot my AO3 password so I read a lot of these in the past as a guest before recovering my password LMAO, please be patient with me omg, and also if you see me bookmarking them now, you know why 😭) 

Kudos to all of my writer homies as well, I love and appreciate all of you so much!! you have no idea! 💖

I hope you find this list useful, anon!! Thank you for sending me this ask and have a wonderful day! 

Ps. Please everyone feel free to add more fics to this list if you want! this is all my personal picks, but I’m aware there are a lot more fics that I haven’t read and deserve as much recognition as the ones I listed!

[abyssofdemons]

-rubs my little hands together- okay time for some hot takes with gou now that it’s ended! enjoy my ramble lmao

okay my very first impression on the start of gou was... wowie this is... a little much on the gore factor. NOW, I KNOW, THIS IS HIGURASHI. but the first half of gou was much more... brutal, in my opinion. now we know it was due to direct contact with h-173 and the influence of eua and satoko but oogh. it was a lot and had made me very anxious with how the plotline was going to go. was it going to be just torture porn for funsies in a way similar to how a lot of kira and rei seemed to be with fanservice? was it going to just be a remake with some funky fresh murder and death?

but then the story picked up! and i gotta say, i really love it. higurashi has always been like... super awesome to me because of the lore, the story. anytime i recommend it to someone, i tell them that kai is a must, that it really explains everything and wraps it up in a very nice bow! and we got more of that! more story, more lore! more character development. 

NOW TIME FOR SOME HOT TAKES. satoko and rika are both flawed, but ultimately good characters. now, okay, i know satoko lately has been... mmm... not good? she’s been controlling, callous, and really evil. but i’ve stayed by the opinion that this is due to hurt and trauma, and that she’s still good, and the finale proved that.

everything she’s done so far, everything she’s been doing... none of it is real. it’s a game of stubbornness on her end - her goal, her perfect ending... when that’s achieved, no suffering will have happened. we’ve seen this already. rika submitted, rika finally understood, rika proved��she understood, and what happened? takano apologized. the tragedy stopped in its tracks. no one went on a murder spree, everything was perfect. satoko thought she had won - no more harm had to continue. she’d let everyone live on happily, without the horrors that she’d induced earlier - because to her, nothing she did in any other loop was real.

satoko just wants everything to stay how it is. she wants her best friend to not change, she doesn’t want to lose her, she doesn’t want to lose anyone. she’s lost her parents, her brother, everyone in her life that was meant to support and care about her. she watched rika promise to stay by her side and break that promise, over and over again. we don’t know how many loops satoko went through trying to keep rika by her side! we don’t know how long it took, how many collective years of attempts there were. we saw everything in, what, a few episodes? for satoko it took years. five years after winning to get to st. lucia, two years to get to the breaking point, and repeat. at minimum, these loops had to be, what, about 21 years collectively? (assuming satoko did at least three full loops, which i’m pretty sure we’ve seen in the show?)

that’s a lot of trauma, of restless grind and tear on someone’s psyche. of course she’d do anything to make that stop. of course she’d grow resentful of rika and just want her to understand!

and for rika... i love rika, i have a lot of personal ties with her and the character. but she does fuck up here. rika has had to pretend for hundreds of years. she’s had to pretend she hasn’t watched her friends and family die, she’s had to pretend to survive. at st lucia she has to pretend to be someone she’s not to fit in. st lucia is bad for her - she may be happy, she may think it’s good and she’s free, but rika is a master of blending in, even if the people she’s blending in with are horrible. she stopped being a good friend to satoko since the very first winning loop.

i’m eager to see how the next season goes, i’m so excited to see how all of this plays out, but, truthfully? i think there is going to be a good end - for all of them. takano is going to remember, she is going to back down. the tragedies will stop on that front. rika and satoko are going to fight, i know this, but i think... they’ll reconcile. the true enemy is eua. a cruel goddess watching mortals maim each other for fun - she’s going to be the final boss, and i think rika and satoko are going to beat her. at least, i hope. 

the ending of the original series and kai... it was a good ending. it was a great ending for them! they broke free of the loops, hinamizawa syndrome was gone, it was good! satoko and rika are going to both find their way to their happy ending again - but this time, they’re going to compromise on it. kai taught us that miracles happen if everyone stands together. why would they take away that message in gou/sotsu? they aren’t.

two more points i’d like to make: teppei, i hate him, but i don’t think the ‘redemption arc’ he got was bad or put him in good light. no one looks at him and forgives him. they don’t forget what he did - the last thing that was shown before he left the screen was a memory of him harming her. a last reminder of what he did so people don’t become too sympathetic. he’s going to change, and that’s going to be good for satoko, but they don’t push a forgiveness narrative. i think the main point of that whole thing was to remind satoko that the path she’s going down is harming others. it’s a mirror to what she is doing to rika right now. now i’m not saying she’s an awful, horrid child abuser, i’m just saying that what she’s doing is wrong and that sometimes you need a reminder of that.

my last remaining thought right now is... okay first off they aren’t going to tie higurashi directly to umineko, BUT, there is, and always has been, similarities to the two.

satoko = lambdadelta. the witch of certainty. rika = bernkastel. the witch of miracles.

don’t you think, with their powers together, they’d be certain to have the miracle to have the ultimate good ending for everyone?

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Auld Lang Syne (Jack x Rin)

Word Count: 3200

Warnings: None! Complete fluff.

A/N: inspired by @magic-multicolored-miracle winter prompts. New Year's kiss. o one asked for it 🤣 This is a sequel to "I'm A Creep" <-- Found here

She came to this little bookstore as many days a week as time allowed. Maybe it was becoming a bit obsessive, Rin’s constant reasons to spend hours there instead of a library. There was a collection of unread novels piling up on the coffee table of her council flat off the high street. Any excuse to be nearby

With the holidays fast approaching, her catering job kept her busier than ever. The constant flirting and serving and pleasing executives and drunk administratives and book editors and bankers managed to fend off the memories of the last time she ended up in the psych hospital. That and plenty of time made everything slow down and spread out over days instead of the constant hours she once spent. Her senses now and then brought Jack back to her like the waves in his mental pond crashing over her. She would be taken off guard for just a moment or two, but the parties kept them back at bay.

Two months in the psych hospital was all they spent together. A month that seeped into her dreams and waking moments for half a year after Rin was released. How she and Jack never spoke again after that night. He grinned awkwardly in her direction during their next group therapy session. Squinting his eyes like he was trying to place where he knew her from, but that was part of her gift. Sometimes, they woke up from a dream and forgot she was ever apart of them.

Before Rin could blink, Emma had come to take Jack home. Emma who smiled fondly at the “barking” girl with scarred hands who carried the flame of hope from her heart to her brother. At least that's what she communicated to Rin as they brushed fingertips on the way out. Jack was safe. He was loved. Emma would make sure he could handle the world without messages and the dead people who plagued him for so long. A few more days, and Rin was dropped back out in the world too.

Still, as the song goes, she learned to muddle through somehow. It had been a rather peculiar stretch of time Rin had gone without thinking of his unearthly eyes or that mass of dark curls on her neck and chest as they.. A bell over a door she didn't remember stepping in broke her out of the reverie.

Rin found herself inside a small shop with shelves eight or nine feet high. That musty smell of tangible books invaded her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. With eyes closed, she put her hand on the first row she could find and melted into the memories imprinted on them. She was struck by an unexpected wave, but instead of drowning she rode it to shore. There was a squeaky creak that often accompanies a wheel and just knew someone was on one of those ladders that glided across the shelves.

“You alright, loov?” that Yorkshire accent filled Rin’s ears and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. “You look like you've seen a ghost,” he chuckled at a joke he felt only he understood.

He was a few feet above her when she finally opened her eyes. He dipped precariously from the ladder like he was swinging from a rope on a pirate ship. Those eyes shining brightly as they reflected the white lights decorating the store. Rin didn’t need to touch him to know he was happy. She could see it on his face as he smiled in her direction. Even in hospital she never knew he had dimples.

“Jack,” it came out before she could help herself.

He arched an eyebrow curiously in her direction. Head tilted in thought. Then looking down at his name tag he puffed air out of his nostrils “Right,” he tapped it “Forgot I was wearing this.”

Rin’s shoulders sagged in defeat, then unexpectedly “Have any Dickens?”

What the hell, she chided herself.

“Do we also have tea in the Queen’s country?” he teased. Rin’s cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. “sometimes we forget all the books we've read. I've forgotten loads since I was sick a few years back. Lived rough then was in hospital while. Dunno why I said that.”

“I think we tell strangers our secrets because we’ll never have to see them again,” Rin spoke softly.

“If you never come back, I was a bad salesman. Always looking for repeats.” Was.. he flirting? “Any Dickens will do?”

“Oliver Twist?” Rin signed and closed her eyes. Her face was on fire. You've had sex with this bloke, and he's got no bloody clue.

“Oi! I like Edwin Drood best. Old man dropped dead right in the middle of it all. Never got a proper ending. Ever been on one of these?” Jack gestured towards the ladder. Rin shook her head so he opened an arm. “Hop on with us then!”

“You give all the girls a ride?” Rin found her voice. She climbed up and settled herself against Jack’s body. Her naked hand closed over his; she felt a jolt go through his chest which tensed in response.

“Not- Not usually?” he stammered and tightened his grip around Rin’s waist as they slid along the shelves. “Do we know each other from somewhere? You just feel familiar. Dunno why I'm thinking of a bird.” Jack spoke more to himself.

“Well, actually, name is Wren-”

He cut her off, “But your brother couldn't say it right, so everyone calls you Rin.”

Jack’s body relaxed into the young woman’s. Maybe it was reflex, but he cautiously buried his face in her hair and inhaled.

Rin swallowed a smile, and found little ways to touch him that day. Little ways to touch exposed parts of Jack everytime she visited the store. Innocent explanations for their hands lingering when he handed her the twentieth book she didn't need. To flirtatiously brush the curls away from his forehead as he leaned over the counter when they talked.

And almost every single time Jack leaned into it. Reciprocated. Started remembering little parts of Rin from their time in section. Not the big messy memories, just bursts from time to time. She was ok with that. She would take him anyway she could.

Now here she was, two days before Christmas with her hands on the ornaments in the shop window. She had something wrapped in brown paper in her purse and was biding her time as Jack helped the customers buying last minute gifts.

Soon it was her turn, and Rin placed the gift on the counter simultaneously with Jack doing likewise. There was unexpected laughter, the way Jack's tapered off into a giggle from a loud outburst. Infectious as it was, Rin joined in.

“If we got each other identical presents, you're coming to mine for New Year’s,” it wasn't a question. “Emma and her partner know you somehow. Must be from around the visitor’s during..” His voice trailed off.

“Our time in the nuthouse?” Rin offered.

Jack leaned over and brushed his nose against Rin’s cheek out of the blue. They lingered momentarily, before he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I've done that before,” another assertion as his verdant gaze settled on Rin’s lips.

Picking up the package, Rin shoved it playfully into Jack’s chest so that he was forced back. “Open your gift!”

“Fine!”

Jack mimicked her tone as he tore into the wrapping paper at the same Rin dove into hers. They both held up books simultaneously and fell into a fit of giggles.

“OLIVER TWIST!”

“EDWIN DROOD?!”

In unison: “FIRST EDITION?!”

“I can't believe I never knew how much you loved books,” Rin was blunt.

“I'm not sure how much we spoke for you to find out.” Jack hugged the book tightly to his chest. “I'm not sure how much I spoke to anyone outside of group and therapy.”

Rin took one of her million chances when she placed the palm of her hand against Jack’s cheek. He relaxed into the touch, eyes closed and sighed contentedly. Under the surface he was warm and bright like the Christmas lights. She wouldn't let herself pass any further than the happy memories. Impassioned ones of mouths and hands and fingertips and hugs.

Perhaps it was the particular sensation Rin spread out from herself to Jack that triggered a reaction. One of him leaning across the countertop to bring their lips together in a chaste kiss that lingered longer than it should have.

Jack recovered and righted himself before apologizing. He was compelled in the moment out of gratitude. “Meet us here on New Year’s, yeah? So we don't have to be alone.”

“You've got family, Jack.” Rin reminded him.

“So we don't have to be alone for the New Year,” he only repeated. It was a date.

------

Rin took the early shift on New Year’s Eve so she could tear out and get ready. The nerves coiled in her stomach as she scrambled to fix hair that wouldn't fall right or apply make-up that made her resemble a street walker. She sighed, defeated, and told herself this was all she could give.

Still Jack threw a large grin in her direction as he closed up the shop. He wolf whistled and Rin felt her face catch fire.

“Aren't you a stunner?” he pecked her cheek and gave the woman before him a spin. She loved the way it came out sounding like “stoonah.”

“You got a big date or something?” he teased before taking her by the hand.

“I needed extra money for the holiday so I thought I'd hang around a street corner. Fifty quid and a warm cot, I'll do whatever you like” Rin shrugged and winked coyly.

Jack rolled his eyes, but his demeanor changed as he traced the network of scars on the back of her hand so delicately Rin felt tears in her eyes. She swiped at them swiftly hoping he thought it was the chilled breeze.

“Dunno why I did tha,” he dropped the hand abruptly and buried his own in a jacket pocket. “Not my place to touch (tooch) you when you didn't ask.”

Uncomfortable silence.

“does anyone else work here besides you?” Rin gestured towards the store as they started walking, she assumed, to Emma’s house.

“Sometimes Emma and Billy. Only when I get too overwhelmed.”

Rin linked her arm with Jack's to break the weird tension. “Do you manage it?”

“I own it. Why need a job? Maybe a bit of a conflict if the boss has a bit of a flirt with the shopgirl innit?”

“OWN IT?!”

Jack laughed, “Not bad for a nutter who talks to dead people and was not long for Big Issue. Why do I say this shit to you?!”

“I'm like a truth serum?” she offered.

They wound their way through a lovely neighbor with houses no one Rin knew could afford. She remembered Jack’s brother-in-law was a lawyer. He told her his sister left him not long after he got out. Had to be spousal support and a settlement, but she didn't prod.

“I helped someone a while back. Someone kinda connected. Well-known, I guess? I tried to sort out his missus when she tried suicide.”

“It didn't work in the end.”

“At first. It's how I got sectioned. The voices. His voice. She was ok for a bit. His family sent me letters. They figured I knew something. What I knew got them a conviction. I got a reward. Doesn’t always feel like one if everyone’s dead now does (dooz) it?”

It was Rin’s turn to lace her fingers with Jack's. “You helped someone's family find peace. Sometimes that's enough even if you kinda lose yourself in the process. Look I let what I can do almost kill me. That’s what put me in hospital.” She held up the gashed scar along her wrist. “But that gave me yo-” Rin swallowed the word. “I got to use my gift one last time. And he's happy! Even if he forgets who I am.”

“Who could ever forget you, love?”

They were quiet the rest of the journey.

-----

Rin sat on the edge of the pool as her feet dangled in the bath warm water. Her brain flashed back to the lake where she experienced Jack drowning in his own mind. Bogged down by medication he didn't need while the dead clung to him. Then they had surfaced, she nearly torn apart by the ghosts Jack fought with. Bellowed that he was no longer their messenger. They tried to take her as compensation.

Now false water filled Rin’s lungs as a fake grin spread across her cheeks. The chlorine and tropical air made her nauseous, ready to vomit. Of all the things Jack could have suggested they do, swimming at 11pm would not have ever crossed her mind.

“There was a kid, lived here before Emma, died right. Mean little bastard too. Suppose dying like that might get a kid angry as long as he was tied to it.”

Jack stood on the pool’s edge, toes curled around the stone. His face went a bit dark as he narrowed his eyes in the direction of something Rin couldn't see in the opposite corner. He clenched his fists. She knew it was a silent standoff between Jack, and most likely, the dead boy.

It was only a flash of his old self before Jack snapped to. He grinned like the Cheshire cat as he undid his jeans and tore his sweater off. Then headfirst into the deep end leaving Rin to squeal.

“WHAT are you doing?!” she yelled as he bolted towards her underwater.

“Dunno fancied a swim. It's rather lovely water considering it's January. Plus,” he pointed towards the ceiling, “Look up.”

Rin followed his finger and gazed upwards. A large glass window spread the night sky before them. Millions of stars shone through, stars she never really bothered searching for. She was overwhelmed by other people's emotions, literally, that she never had a quiet moment to herself so that she COULD look up.

“Don't you wanna to join me?” Jack’s question was rather coy as he side-stroked back and forth.

Rin shook her head, “I'll sit here and watch.” She glanced down at the wine bottle she nearly forget, “And drink.” So they did.

Now her anxiety was churning her stomach. A coat of alcohol warmed her further than just the temperature of the pool room. Her chest was tight with lack of oxygen as she struggled to not cry. So she focused on the long, thin body completely relaxed on the water's surface. What a lovely distraction it was.

Jack floated along lazily on his back, boxers leaving nothing to the imagination. That secret part of him Rin had not seen in two years clearly visible. Now her face grew flush with desire and the memory of how good it felt for once to be touched by a man because he cared about her. How they made each other sing.

Jack must have sensed something because he righted himself and swam towards her. Those hands on her calves and knees to part them slightly so he can stand between them. He was silent as he reached for the bottle of wine.

“Rin, be honest,” his voice filled the silence of the room. “Can you swim?”

Rin's heart pounded so loudly in her ears that Jack was muffled. The way he looked at her, desire emanated from him. There was a disconnect between his brain and body. Those hands on her thighs remembered exploring her but the rest of him didn't. They lingered between innocence and the verge of obscenity. If he wanted, Rin would have sex with him while a houseful of people partied and danced within ear shot.

“i can swim!”

Jack pushed off the wall and splashed her in the process. “Do you think I'm sexy?” he was drunk. Head tilted as the wet curls clung to his face.

“A blind person would think you're sexy. You're taking the piss because I won't get in.”

“Of course I am! Come on. I'll hold you?” he raised an eyebrow. “It's almost midnight. I want to be with you when it is.”

“We're together enough, Jack”

“No!” he waved his hands. “I want to hold you.I don't know why, I know I have before? I feel like there's just this.. Ever since you came to the store it’s been like trying to remember a dream I had once. And some part of me is saying you know how to help because you've done it before?”

Realization spread across Jack's face, “Rin, am I the one who forgot you?”

“It happens sometimes. I think.. I think my abilities shut off a part of people who no longer need me or want me?” she shrugged it off.

“How could I not want you?”

It was such an innocent thing to ask. One Rin had asked herself every time someone used her. Her parents turned her into a sideshow freak for their religion. Men and their sick desires that she tapped into. Even she didn't want herself most of the time.

But Jack had been alone. Left to his own devices and literally haunted. Rin never needed to touch him to know how sad he had been when he first was sectioned. It emanated from him. He knew about self isolation and mistrust. And especially about gifts that would ruin you if they could.

There wasn't a thought left. Spurned on by the purity of his question, Rin hurried out of her clothes and eased herself into the pool. She swam as quickly as her body allowed before throwing herself in Jack's waiting arms.

Their arms and legs tangled together in the water. Rin wrapped herself around Jack's hips, her arms draped across broad shoulders. She twisted her fingers up in his hair and let her body meld into his.

Jack held Rin's head in his hands. Their foreheads pressed together as he nudged the tip of his nose along her face. Careful, at first,

to only brush his lips on her cheeks and eyelids. Then the countdown started.

Everyone in the house started counting down excitedly, and Jack stopped being cautious. It was cliché how their mouths found one another hungrily as the guests screamed Happy New Year! How Rin's empathic touch sent a wave of electricity that visibly shocked Jack's body as they began to sing. As if she plugged his body into his brain and there was a spark that brought him to life.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

For days of Auld Lang Syne

They relaxed into one another. Their kisses became languid but no less passionate. Everyone stormed the pool around them, splashing and laughing and hollering. Emma drunkenly interrupted the couples’ warring lips and tongues.

“Took you fucking long enough,” she teased her baby brother. “I kept hoping this would happen.”

Rin buried her face in Jack's chest as he held her tight. That bright fire that flowed from Emma to her and Rin to Jack back in hospital took root again in this house and pool.

“Me too.”

We’ll take o cup of kindness yet

For days of auld lang syne

[fictionplumis]

Fuck it, I’m writing more headcanons I have about Aiden and the Cat School witchers because fuck you, that’s why. 

It goes hand-in-hand with this post here where I first talked about how I see the mutagens affecting them, and I still stand by that but I’ve added more to my thoughts and made things a bit more complex. 

To start with, if I relate anything to a mental illness in a wrong way, please correct me. I am not neurotypical, neither is anyone I know, and I’ve taken a few psych classes, but I’m by no means an expert and the last thing I want to do is contribute to damaging stereotypes and spread misinformation. I also want to say that I’m not necessarily saying it’s any mental illness-like thing that makes Cat witchers the way that they are, but more the lack of knowledge/support/treatment/coping methods combined with the typical shit upbringing of a witcher that makes things so difficult for them. 

So there’s not much we actually do know about this school, not concretely anyway, and we’re also not sure how reliable the narrator is per se, because it’s very possible the stuff we do know about them is just rumors. My headcanon is that yes, most Cats are legitimately dangerous. Given that they act as assassins sometimes, I think their school teaches them to prioritize survival and money over all else, whereas I think School of the Wolf teaches their witchers that their duty is to protect. 

I was RPing with someone once who had this brilliant idea of Cats being taught to take contracts for monster nests, and then killing the monsters but leaving the nests so that when they passed through the next year, they would have another contract. In my version of the Cat School, that would absolutely be in line with their philosophy. In a lot of ways, they’re taught that humans are just another type of monster sometimes. They’re good when they’re paying you, but if they start doing the same shit monsters do, what’s the difference? With their heightened emotions, it means they’re capable of really deep empathy and connection to others, but their school teaches them to use that to manipulate people. Find out what motivates them, what words and phrasing you can use to convince an Alderman out of more coin, what emotions you need to appeal to in order to get a free room for the night, stuff like that. 

So let’s take a look at Karadin real quick. If we’re believing that Aiden is who Lambert says he is, then Karadin is obviously lying about why Aiden died. So what else is he lying about? 

Here’s a guy who was taught to survive above all else, to use his emotions and the emotions of others to manipulate them, who is good at gathering information. Him and his rag-tag group of assassins just took out this guy--reason doesn’t matter, it happened--and now they have a renegade Wolf after them. I doubt Lambert keeps quiet, you know? He wants information on what happened to Aiden, he’s going around pounding on doors and taking names, he’s making a scene. Karadin hears about it, we know that because he expected Lambert to show up. So how can he best protect himself? 

Firstly, cut all ties with his crew. Disband them. Become the guy who was into some bad shit but is now trying to clean up his life. Second, find out about the Wolf hunting them. Again, Lambert’s not exactly quiet. At the very least it wouldn’t be hard to find out that Lambert’s bitter about his life being a witcher, that he feels like his humanity was stolen was from. Why he feels that way doesn’t matter, it’s something Karadin can appeal to. Now he can become something that Lambert can sympathize with. Become the witcher that’s trying to leave the Path, start a family, and find his humanity again. You know about being a slaver, assassin, and wealthy merchant on the side, he has bank. So he pays a widowed mother to live with him, provides her and her kids food and shelter and safety, and all she has to do is pretend to be his lover for a little bit. After the heat cools down and he no longer has a Wolf looming over his shoulder, he can go back to his old life. What’s a couple years of laying low to a witcher, right?  Karadin’s mistake is not realizing that Lambert valued Aiden over any half-assed attempt to get his “humanity” back, and that he trusted and knew Aiden well enough to see through the lie. 

Anyway, that right there is the kind of shit the Cat school teaches. 

This, of course, makes Cats very hard to trust. And in turn, it makes Cats very suspicious of everyone else. If they can lie and manipulate like that, what’s stopping everyone else from doing it? It’s always possible. They don’t trust humans because humans have the tendency to be pretty shit (re: the attack on Stygga), they don’t trust the people in their school because all of those people know how to lie and manipulate just as easily as they do, and they don’t trust other schools look down on them. The one school they reluctantly get along with are the Vipers, because Vipers don’t look down on them. The others, especially the Wolves up in their mountain home? Oh, they’re up on their high horse, believing their way is the only moral way, banning anyone who doesn’t agree with them from the only safe place witchers have left, so fuck them. 

Then you pair this with the emotional instability. They have a hard time keeping their feelings consistent, which means they have a hard time keeping their opinions consistent. So maybe they set up camp somewhere they feel safe and an hour later they’re on edge and uncomfortable, and they can’t imagine how they ever felt safe there, and did they even feel safe there? They can remember they did, but they can’t emotionally connect to that memory now, maybe what they remember was back when they felt safe in a very similar camp, and not this one, they just mistook that memory to be this one. Or they take a contract and they decide, yeah, that’s a fair amount for this, this will be easy, even fun!. And then they do the contract and halfway through they’re like no, this is not fun, how the fuck did I think this would be fun, of course it’s not fun, and by the time they get to collect they’re reward, they’re demanding more but that was not worth the price they originally agreed on, I would never agree to do that for such a low amount. 

So essentially, the emotionally instability makes it very easy for them to gaslight themselves. 

Can’t trust others. Can’t trust themselves. Can’t trust their memories, or their feelings, or the decisions they make because they never know when all those things might change. 

Now let’s throw in paranoia, because the lack of trust is definitely a breeding ground for paranoia. It doesn’t help that people already whisper about and spit at witchers that pass by, but for a Cat on edge, everyone is doing that. That person laughing? Laughing at them. Those people talking? Plotting against them. Make eye contact with someone? What do they want? Is that a weapon? Are they planning something? 

And that right there is why so many Cats snap and go insane. It’s not just them lashing out because their emotions got the best of them, that’s would actually be a very small issue compared to this. This is why the rumor is a Cat that’s gone “feral” as to be killed. They work themselves into psychosis and even if you calm them down from the one instance, it’s nearly impossible to fix the way they now view the world. 

So enter Aiden. 

My headcanon is that he started out like any other Cat from his school. He did a lot of fucked up things because that’s what he was taught and he didn’t realize there was really anything wrong with it. He had no reason to question it, no reason to think his elders had taught him wrong, no reason to focus on anything but making money and staying alive. And then that changed. 

Why that changed is flexible, it could be anything, from something small that his ever-changing emotions conflated into something important that he fixated on, to something that is legitimately pretty life changing. I firmly believe that this thing doesn’t have anything to do with Lambert, though. This is before Lambert. Because the important part about Aiden being a good man, is that it’s something he decided to do on his own first. Then later, when he meets Lambert, Lambert helps him, helps him a lot, but the stuff that Aiden had already taught himself is the stuff that Lambert still needs to learn too, so they help each other. 

In my headcanon, the thing that sparked this for Aiden was the whole “leave the nest so you can come back next year” thing. He didn’t think much of doing it besides job security of sorts, and there was one town with a nekker problem that he popped through a few years straight to rid them of the nests that kept popping up. The people liked him because he was friendly and he took care of their problem every year. Aiden figured he could milk it until another witcher came along and destroyed the nests completely, but until then, their gratitude earned him a bit more coin than a monster nest usually would. And there was the carpenter’s son, who really liked him. Just a this spunky little kid who wasn’t afraid of a witcher, and who babbled to Aiden about being just like his dad when he got older, and who carved Aiden a little wooden sword one year as a thank you. And then Aiden came back through one year and the kid was gone. One of the first victims of the hatched nekkers that year. 

All at once it hit Aiden that his actions and nonactions had consequences. He had no kid babbling at him. The carpenter gave him a smile and a nod, but there was an emptiness to it. He had a mother sobbing into her hands thanking him for getting rid of the monsters that killed her son, unaware that it was his fault for leaving the nest in the first place. 

That gets Aiden to not only look at his own actions, but the actions of his school. At what motivates his brothers and sisters. How accountable they are for their actions. How aware they are of the damage it sometimes does. Whether or not they even care. And by looking at that, he sees the downward spiral that so many other Cats take, and he uses his high emotional intelligence and empathy to figure out why that happens, because he doesn’t want it to happen to him. So he has these coping mechanisms. Some are for the strong flashes of emotions that spark up and overwhelm him, but others are things for every day maintenance. He journals a lot. Writes down his circumstances, his feelings towards his circumstances, why he feels that way, the things he’s noticing, he writes down as much as he can so that if his feelings change and he has a hard time grasping how he felt differently before, he can go back and read it. It’s physical proof, right there, that his memories aren’t wrong. He did feel that way. Doesn’t now, but he did, and he can trust that he did because it’s right there. Then he can write down how his feelings have changed, and why they changed, and everything he can think of so he has another record of the situation if he needs to reference it. 

It helps a lot, especially when he reads back over everything from months ago. It helps him become more comfortable with just letting himself feel his emotions without getting as frustrated by all the changes, or stressed out at the idea that they will change. Because they always do, and it’s not always bad, he’s been through it before and he’s gotten on pretty well despite it. The fear he’s feeling at that time will change too, the frustration will change, he won’t always feel bad and yes, he’ll eventually stop feeling good but he’ll also always return to feeling good again eventually. 

Lambert helps him find some consistency, because out of everything, Lambert’s the one thing Aiden has never changed his mind about. Even when he’s angry and frustrated at Lambert, he still cares so fucking much. And the Wolf is always worth it. It’s this one point of consistency that Aiden doesn’t really need to function but holy fuck does it help. 

Meanwhile Lambert will start in about something, be keyed up and ranting while Aiden just calmly hums and watches him pace until Lambert tosses up his hands like, “I don’t even know why this pisses me off so much!” 

And Aiden blinks and goes, “Maybe it’s not just this issue that’s pissing you off. Maybe you’re also upset about other things. Does this remind you something similar that upset you, or has anything happened recently that this is adding to?” 

And Lambert doesn’t fucking know. How is he supposed to know what else he might be upset about? Lots of things upset him! And this is just like a million other situations, how is he supposed to know if one of those is similar enough to also be upsetting him right now?  “Well... Have you tried writing it down?”  “Have I tried what now?”  “Writing it down. You know. With a quill, in a book. A record of sorts, if you will. Of times you feel upset. So you can go back and read it to help you figure out what might be contributing to how upset you are currently.” 

The fact that Aiden says it with all the patience of someone talking to a child makes Lambert immediately dismiss the idea until the next time he gets pissed and he’s like fuck it, whatever, I’m buying a damn journal or whatever. And he does. And he writes down what he’s feeling, and is reluctant to admit that it makes him feel a little bit better, so maybe he does it a few more times, and then something else pisses him off and he writes that down too and then decides to flick back to the other pages and what do you fucking know, it’s kind of like that other time he was pissed. Not exactly, but he reads this one little detail that matches with his current situation that just agitates him to even read it and he’s like huh. I guess I really don’t like it when people say that. Yeah, you know what? I absolutely fucking hate it when people say that. The entire situation pisses me off, sure, but I wouldn’t be nearly as pissed if that guy didn’t say what he did!

Anyway. 

I don’t know a good way to end this but yeah there’s more of my thoughts on Aiden and the Cat School. Maybe I’ll write about headcanons regarding how I see school traits matching with the animal the school is based off of, because I see those headcanons often and while I agree with some, I’m picky and I do it differently.

[qqueenofhades]

How did 9/11 affect the American psyche? I’ve heard people say that 9/11 is when America went insane, but I was born into the post-9/11 America, so it’s a bit hard for me to wrap my head around.

Oh man. You kids are asking the easy questions tonight, I see.

I’m not even sure I can adequately describe the effect that 9/11 had on the American psyche and the ways in which the entire world would be massively, almost unimaginably different if it had never happened, but here goes.

Basically, in the almost exactly ten-year period between the final collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 and the terror attacks in 2001, life for Americans was pretty damn good. They had won the Cold War, the economy was doing great, everybody was feeling rich and optimistic and like there was nothing but blue skies ahead. (Side note, I wonder if this resurgence of ‘90s nostalgia has to do with the fact that that’s the last time that we collectively felt safe.) The Columbine school shootings happened in 1999, back when that was completely still a shocking thing that nobody would expect, and not a semi-regular feature of the news every few months. I was 11 years old. Littleton was about an hour from where we lived at the time. I spent the whole morning crying about it and insisted on organizing a memorial service for the victims. The 2000 presidential election was bitterly contested between Bush and Gore, coming down to a handful of votes in Florida and the Supreme Court decision. Man, you also have to wonder how all of recent American history would have gone differently if Bush had lost.

Then…. 9/11. I was 13. It was an ordinary, sunny Tuesday, my dad came upstairs with a funny look on his face, and said that apparently the World Trade Center had been attacked. We didn’t have cable TV, so we didn’t watch any of it live, but I don’t remember that we discussed anything else for the whole day. We were at home, which was far away from the East Coast or where any of it was happening, so I don’t have any dramatic memories of seeing people freaking out or anything like that. At dinner that night, THAT NIGHT, my mom said that Osama bin Laden had probably done it. I repeat: everyone knew on the same night that it had happened that Osama was almost definitely responsible. You may note that Osama bin Laden was a Saudi national, all the hijackers were Saudi, and al-Qaeda was an organization with deep Saudi roots. (Remember the part where America attacked… Afghanistan? Yep. Seems legit. Then again, they weren’t the biggest oil producers in the region and a major US ally.)

It is impossible to overstate the shock that this caused. This had never happened. Even through both world wars and the long, dangerous 20th century and the turbulence and tension of the Cold War, there had never been an attack like this on mainland American soil. (And on that note, America got into World War II, despite all the heroic mythology about freeing the world from tyranny, because of the attack on Pearl Harbor, which in 1941 was an American territory. There were plenty of Nazi sympathizers among the establishment and government, and as soon as the war was over, America brought plenty of Nazis, including Wernher von Braun, to work in the space program. To say nothing of our problems with Nazis NOW. So yes.) The psychological effects were literally devastating for both Americans and many other people. Not to downplay the obvious horror of what happened on 9/11 and the people who were killed, but it turned America into a siege state. Everyone was terrified, and yet now we had a War on Terror, helpfully called a “crusade” by President Bush before European allies forced him to walk it back. His approval ratings hit 90%+ in the days after 9/11, and support to bomb Afghanistan – again, not in any way directly connected to this, aside from the fact that it was where Osama bin Laden had been active, and when the US government had armed him and fellow mujahadeen in the 1980s to fight against the Soviets, who had invaded in 1979, making it a Cold War proxy battlefield, and anyway – was MONUMENTAL. The whole public was behind this. International sympathy for America was incredible. Everyone was on our side and willing to say that we had been wronged. It didn’t really matter that Afghanistan was not really connected to this. Someone needed to suffer for this outrage. And boy, did they suffer.

Then came March 2003, and the infamous declaration that we were now going to invade Iraq, because Saddam Hussein (supported by the US in the 1980s Iran-Iraq War, in retaliation for Iran overthrowing their puppet shah in 1979, after CIA and MI6 staged a coup to remove Iran’s democratically elected prime minister in 1953 to protect their access to oil) apparently had weapons of mass destruction and was about to use them to kill more Americans. Everyone knew at the time that this was pretty much bullshit. But boy, did the Bush administration go hard to work selling it to us. The Department of Homeland Security was founded in 2002, after the attacks. The Patriot Act and other intrusive new surveillance methods and measures were quickly authorized. Americans became watched, spied on, mistrusted, and suspected of wrongdoing in ways never really tried on a large scale before. Any dissent was framed as taking the side of the terrorists; couldn’t you see that we needed all this to be safe? The state of national emergency that was declared after 9/11 was never actually revoked; we are all still living in it 19 years later. The culture of hyper-militarism, all these huge flags at sporting events and the visibility of these “Salute to Service” months and this aggressive fasciso-patriotism all grew up directly from the seeds of 9/11 and the sense of unforgivable affront to America, which could do what it wanted anywhere else in the world but could never forgive anyone for inflicting it in return.

It’s a mark of how badly all that public sympathy was mismanaged that by the time 2003 rolled around, the international community (except for Great Britain and Bush’s loyal compadre, Tony Blair) was… to say the least, skeptical of this Iraq adventure. It was pretty clearly a pretext to resume the Gulf War from Bush Senior’s tenure, unrelated to any actual justification or revenge for 9/11, and demonstrated the fact that far from resting on our laurels and feeling safe after winning the Cold War, America was now locked in mortal combat with an enemy that could be everywhere at any time. Nobody should feel safe, because the terrorists were out there. Despite the condemnation, Bush got re-elected in 2004, in part by painting his opponent, John Kerry, as someone who just couldn’t be trusted on national security. In short, Kerry, a Vietnam veteran, was “Swift Boated,” though he also did run a pretty wooden and uninspiring campaign. I just missed being old enough to vote in this election, though my parents and older sister all voted for Kerry, and Bush’s failings were a frequent subject of discussion in our house. He was getting more and more unpopular, was a figure of national ridicule, and yet this never actually discredited the whole War on Terror and the apparatus that sustained it. There were reports of war crimes, including Abu Ghraib, committed by the American forces. The indiscriminate torture and murder of detainees at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba was also an object of national concern, but allowed to keep happening. Less than 5 years after 9/11, and all this sympathy for America, America had… well, lost its mind.

So… yes. There’s an entire generation now that is too young to remember 9/11 and thinks that America has always been this way, but it is, again, completely impossible to overstate how 9/11 turned this sense of comfortable complacency and national prosperity upside down. Everything was now justified in the name of freedom, and any disloyalty was suspect. Our “The Greatest!!” state had to be repeated and reissued and emphasized at every point. Many innocent Americans died on 9/11, sure. But the way that it was turned into the worst violation that any country had suffered anywhere, led to the death of thousands of Afghans, Iraqis, American servicepeople, Muslims, and everyone else involved in the wars and the system that was built to sustain them, and turned America into this paranoid, brutal, out-of-control war-machine juggernaut is, it can be well argued, its worst and most lasting tragedy.

[7-wonders]

Wilted Roses Smell Just as Sweet

So I don’t know if this will be a prologue for an actual story, or if it’s just backstory, but this is that Beauty and the Beast AU I was talking about last week. Let me know what you think!

The butterfly effect, commonly found in pop culture, is the idea that the smallest action can result in bigger changes later in time. The flapping of a butterfly’s wings leading to a tornado is a popular example, and many people believe that the butterfly theory and karma go hand in hand. Although scientists and mathematicians have attempted to quantify the results of the butterfly effect, that directly contradicts the chaos theory from which the butterfly effect stems.

For the entirety of his life, Duncan Shepherd has found no reason to believe in any sort of cosmic effect. When you live a privileged life, there’s really no reason to believe that what you do will result in a different outcome. He already has everything, and has for his whole life, so it does no good to imagine what it would be like to have nothing. In retrospect, he should have paid more attention in the Intro to Psych class that he was forced to take to fulfill a general education requirement in college. Hindsight, however, is 20/20.

One simple fact had caused Duncan to decide that he needed a break. One simple fact had prompted Duncan to steal away to one of the family’s many homes, a large country home in the woods of the Appalachian Mountains. One simple fact had frozen Duncan’s heart into a block of ice, although one could make the argument that he held no warmth long before he learned that he was adopted.

The words still stung to think about. Adopted. Not truly a Shepherd. Being adopted is, in and of itself, not a bad thing. The way that Duncan’s “family” treated the adoption, illegally obtaining a child and erasing any trace of his true parentage, made it seem as though it was something dirty. 

After learning the truth, Duncan’s world had completely tilted on its axis. Unsure of what to do next, the only thing he was sure of was that he couldn’t bear to be around Annette or Bill for a while. He needed to get out of the poisonous city that was Washington, D.C. and clear his head. Luckily, the Shepherds own a multitude of houses in a variety of locations for him to choose from. Deciding that the seclusion of a forest was what would be most conducive to his recovery, Duncan chose to hide out in one of the family’s larger homes. Nestled within the Pennsylvanian Appalachian Mountains, the sheer size and splendor made it more of a chateau than a house. It was the perfect location to get away for awhile.

And so, the heir to the burgeoning Shepherd dynasty holed himself away in the hopes that a good month of sleeping, drinking, barking orders at the staff, and solitude would do him some good. Annette didn’t have much of a choice but to let him go; if she lost her son, she lost any chance she had at securing power for years to come. 

Small actions resulting in bigger changes further down the line. The decision not to tell Duncan he was adopted led to the explosive revelation by the President in an attempt to wound the family. The confrontation between mother and son, uncle and nephew, brother and sister, was followed by Duncan’s need for space.

Three weeks had passed since Duncan shut himself away from the world. His odd vacation was coming to an end, and while he couldn’t say that he was eager to return to his family, he did miss the hustle of the political center of the nation. For now, though, he was enjoying every last moment of calm that he could.

It was a surprisingly stormy evening, the wind blowing the trees that surrounded the house in every direction as rain fell upon the property in sheets and lightning cracked through the sky. Duncan had remained in his study for the evening, the fire providing much-needed warmth to the chilly room as he read. If there was one positive stemming from the fallout, it was that he had read more books than he had in years. He had finished Wuthering Heights yesterday, and was already halfway through Frankenstein when a knock at the door disrupted his concentration. Duncan had every intention of letting the evening staff answer the call of whomever had arrived, if only they weren’t strangely absent.

Three separate times, the visitor knocks on the door, and three separate times, Duncan waits for the door to open. By the fourth time, he huffs in resignation and decides that he’ll have to answer the door himself. What’s the point of having staff if they’re not going to do their jobs?, Duncan thinks as he unlocks the door and opens it harshly.

“This is private property, and I will--” Duncan trails off as he tries to take in what he’s seeing. An old woman stands in front of him, a soaked cloak covering her hunched form. Stringy white hair peeks out from the hood, and she smiles at him with a grin that’s missing a few teeth.

“I’m so sorry to bother you this evening,” she says hoarsely, “but I’m lost, and the storm’s getting too bad to walk in. I was wondering if I could use your phone and remain here until I can be collected? It’s cold out, and it’s so easy for a woman of my age to catch pneumonia in these conditions.”

Duncan sneers, put off by the way this elderly woman believes she can just get whatever she wants. Sensing this, she reaches into her cloak and roots around in an attempt to find something.

“I don’t have any money for you, but I do have this.” She produces a red rose in full bloom, looking as if it was just cut from a bush and not at all like it’s been held in the grasp of a sodden woman for hours now.

“You expect me to let a stranger into my house to use my phone and remain here for what could be hours, and in exchange for what? A stupid rose?”

The woman looks taken aback. “I promise you, only the finest roses are cultivated in my garden. Your kindness would surely be rewarded down the line.”

“There’s a ranger station about a mile south of here. They’ll have a phone that you can use, and hopefully some towels. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

The grin that she has been wearing morphs into a scowl. “You would deny an old woman shelter solely due to your whims?”

Duncan rolls his eyes, fed up with this interaction. “I already told you that you’re on private property, and now you’re beginning to test my patience. You’ll find what you need with the forest rangers, but I can’t help you. Goodnight.”

He goes to close the door, mind already wandering to thoughts of where he left off in his book, when a blinding strike of lightning has him throwing his arm over his eyes as he staggers back from the door. The wind whips the heavy wood open like it’s little more than a fragile screen door, the cold chilling Duncan to his very bones. Blinking his eyes to clear the spots that have gathered from the sudden brightness, he’s more than surprised to see that the old woman is gone, replaced by the figure of a glowing, ethereal woman.

There have always been stories of the magic that resides within the wilderness of the Appalachian Mountains, but Duncan had always taken them with a hefty grain of salt. After all, there’s no way that magic is real. It’s a fairy tale, a bedtime story told to children to ward off nightmares. Staring at what used to be an elderly woman, however, there’s no other answer to what she could be than an enchantress. 

“Less eager to turn me away now, aren’t you?” Her red lips are twisted in a cruel smirk, the wind forcing Duncan to his knees in front of her.

“I’m sorry, I--I didn’t know…”

“What, you didn’t know that I was actually beautiful? If I would have shown up at your door in this form, you would have let me use your phone without any sort of hesitation.” It’s not a question: she’s seen into his very soul, and knows just as well as he how he would have reacted if it had been the beautiful young woman who knocked on his door.

“No, it’s just--”

“Silence,” she commands. “I have seen what lies in your heart. It’s cold and dark, with no love to be found. You carry such beauty on the outside, but it does not extend inwards. Your dutiful staff is treated as if they’re invisible, so what difference will it make if they are? If you want to act like a beast, Duncan Shepherd, then a beast you shall be.”

Pain rips through Duncan’s body, leaving him helpless to question how she knows his name or what she means.

“Until you can learn to love, and be loved in return, you shall outwardly display the beastliness that lies within your heart. And this rose, which you so quickly spurned, shall serve as a reminder of this curse. It will continue to bloom until your thirty fifth birthday. If you are unable to break the curse by then, you will die when the last petal falls off of the rose.”

Another bright crack of lightning has Duncan falling backwards. It’s as if there’s a tornado whipping through his home, and combined with the overwhelming pain he’s feeling, he can’t tell which way is up or down. The wind reaches a fever pitch along with his pain, and Duncan passes out before he can even attempt to fight back.

The light burns through his eyelids when Duncan finally regains consciousness. He’s sprawled on the floor in the entryway, but when he tries to remember how he ended up here, his memory is fuzzy. He must have had a bit too much to drink last night, and he’s certainly paying for it now. Staggering to his feet, the only thing on Duncan’s mind is getting some water to soothe his burning throat. After that order of business is taken care of, he’ll worry about getting one of the maids to close the blinds.

It’s when he runs a hand through his hair that Duncan begins to get the impression that something’s wrong. Is it possible for hair to grow so much in one night? His locks must fall to at least his chin now, when last night they were so neatly kept. Trailing down to his face, he feels more facial hair than the artful stubble he normally sported.

His heart begins to race when he once again inspects his hair, finding hard protrusions on top of his head that end in points. Racing to find a mirror, Duncan gasps when he looks at his shaking hands. Impossibly, they look sizes bigger, and his nails are fucking claws. The ornate mirror hung on the wall of the hallway reveals a truth that Duncan was certain had been a dream.

His hair and beard is wild and unkempt, almost reminding Duncan of fur. Jet black horns jut out of the top of his head, their points shining in the light of the hallway. When Duncan opens his mouth to let out an exclamation of fear and call for help, he instead screams at the sight of fangs in his mouth.

[dragonnan]

16, 17 and 19 for the most recent ask thingy, should you feel the mood sway you. 😁

The mood will ALWAYS sway me lol!

16. Describe your WIP that currently has the highest word count.

Simon and Simon and Psych (Psych/Simon & Simon) Word count: 24,323

So this one, in spite of not being updated in YEARS, is a story I’m still absolutely on fire to resume because I’m just thrilled af about the concept. It’s a crossover between 2 series I love - Psych and Simon & Simon (an 80s Private Detective series).  What excites me most about it was the reimagining of Simon & Simon for the modern era while still retaining all of the things that made the characters what they were.  

A little back story on Simon & Simon as I feel more people will be less familiar with that series of the two.  The series is about 2 brothers who decided to open a detective agency together after the younger brother, AJ (Andrew Jackson), left the larger detective agency where he had been working for several years.  

AJ is blond, surfed a great deal as a younger man, attended law school, and was considered the “golden child” growing up somewhat sheltered and cherished and maybe a tad innocent of the world.  When his brother went to Viet Nam, AJ took part in the peace protests - primarily because he was terrified for his brother and wanted to do anything he could to make the fighting stop.  AJ tends to be the more mature of the brothers - nearly always wearing a suit and usually takes lead in dealing with clients (assuming Rick doesn’t interrupt him).  

Rick, the older brother, left home after they father died and bounced around from various interests, including being a biker for a time, before going to Viet Nam.  He would come back from the war with a boatload of PTSD and a very fierce drive to protect his younger brother (probably far more so than he’d even felt prior to Viet Nam but to be clear - Rick is VERY protective of AJ).  All of that, however, might take the casual observer by surprise as Rick is incredibly irresponsible (on the surface) and nearly always in a good mood or quick with a joke.  Just don’t threaten baby bro other their mother.  Really, just do not.   

So that’s a bit of backstory so I can mention my changes for the modern era.  Instead of Viet Nam, Rick is now a veteran of Desert Storm.  They now both carry cell phones instead of relying on pay phones or other land lines.  They have a website.  I’ve updated their cars.  Before, AJ drove a red Camaro T Top so I changed that to a 2008 Chevy Corvette.  Rick, in the series, drove a 1979 Dodge Power Wagon so that one... did not change lol!  I seriously cannot picture Rick in any other vehicle. 

So after ALL OF THAT there’s actually a story in progress...

The plot thus far is that the Simon brothers are in Santa Barbara because AJ is running in the annual Half Marathon (an actual one cause I do like to blend some real events with my fiction lol).  While in town, Rick goes to run an errand - picking up an item his buddy Carlos had shipped but wasn’t able to pick up himself because Carlos is... sketchy (an actual character from the series that we hear about anecdotally from Rick).  Meanwhile, Juliet and Lassiter are at the shipyards as well, having set up a sting on suspicion of drug activity.  So, of course, when Rick goes to collect this item for Carlos, he ends up being stopped by the cops who confiscate the item after finding it filled with drugs and they arrest Rick.  THIS, then, is how the crossover comes into play as Shawn, of course, horns in on the investigation and immediately suspects that Rick is being setup so he volunteers to help out the Simons.  Various things happen which ultimately leads Shawn, Gus, and AJ back to the shipyards and a suspicious warehouse (aren’t ALL warehouses suspicious?) where suspicious men are rapidly emptying it of product.  The 3 men get caught and are bundled off in the back of a suspicious vehicle to a suspicious location.  At about this time Rick is let out on bail (thanks moooom....) and in a panic as he hasn’t heard from his brother.  When he realizes AJ must be in trouble, he ends up tentatively joining up with Juliet and Lassiter who are trying to find Shawn. Nobody is entirely thrilled with being teamed up in either group...

And this is roughly where things stand after the last update!     

So after I’ve subjected you to all of the above, how about a snippet from chapter 1?

___

Shawn Spencer spun slowly in his father's chair – maintaining just enough speed to make a full revolution before kicking himself into another circuit.  Typically he enjoyed his time at the station, provided he wasn't behind bars or being subjected to an interrogation.  Okay, scratch that.  He did enjoy an interrogation provided his hot pants girlfriend with a personal pair of handcuffs was the one dressing him down.  He leered. He didn't even have to try to make that sound dirty.  

Right.  Back on the subject at hand. Naughty cop Jules would, sadly, have to wait until they could have some private time.

If they could have some private time.  Of course, the way things were going lately...

And that brought him back full circle to his original beef.

Dad was being cagey. Like, Nick Cagey complete with diminished mane and sneaky covertness. Sure, he pretended he wasn't being covert but his dad sucked almost as bad as Lassie when he tried to fake acting casual. He was way too sour in the shorts to pull off that level of none chalice.

Like now, the old man was going for coffee. Like anybody with half a badge couldn't see right through that act. Shawn pulled together a mild sneer as his dad returned to his desk.

“Really? You put sugar in that too?”

His dad didn't look at him as he set his coffee on the desk. “Stop glaring at me. And get the hell out of my chair!”

Shawn didn't budge. “I am on to you.” He enunciated with immaculate exaggeration.

“The only thing you're on is my chair. And too many Pop Rocks; I thought Gus had cut you back to one pack a day.”

“I'm allowed two packs on the weekend.”

“It's Wednesday, kiddo. Maybe it's time you invested in a calendar.”

“Well maybe it's time you invested in hair plugs!” Shawn paused as his father crossed his arms. The pointing hand dropping back to his lap. “Too Terence Stamp? Sorry, I was caught up in the moment.”

“What do you want, Shawn?”  Giving up on patience, Henry opted for shoving his son until he toppled out of the chair.  Ignoring the yelp when Shawn flopped to the tile, he scooted closer to the desk so he could pull up the report he'd been working on.  Fingers just coming to rest on his keyboard, he scowled at the active game of Pitfall taking up his screen.  He tapped a button but rather than taking him back to the SBPD mainframe, it caused the character to jump into the green shapes he assumed were meant to be alligators.  Behind him, Shawn gasped.

“You just killed my last guy!”

“Be grateful that's all I've killed.” Slapping a few more keys he finally found the right combination to get back to his report.  

Still sitting on the floor, Shawn drew up his knees up and propped his chin on both fists.  Not even managing to type a single word, Henry sighed and swiveled towards his moping son.

“What, Shawn?”

Now that he had the desired attention, Shawn pushed his lower lip out the tiniest bit.  “Jules is busy and she said I can't help with the stakeout cause it's “super stupid important, Shawn” and Gus won't let me borrow the blueberry so I can follow her cause deep down inside I know she wants me to help cause, please, like I don't always make a stakeout better – I mean, who else is going to remember to bring an extra container of cheese dip for the nachos because one cup is just never enough and believe you me you do not want to short cheese a guy packing tear gas...”

Henry held up a hand to cut off the ramble that could easily go on another five minutes.  With his other hand he rubbed at his aching eyes.  Of course Shawn would find out about the sting.  However, Chief Vick had been adamant about keeping him out of it.  Henry had actually lobbied for including his son on the details – the memory of the last big operation that had temporarily cost him his job was not an easily healing wound.  Rather than even attempt reconstructing the word barrage of bitching, Henry latched on to the least pointless detail.

“Where is Gus anyhow?  I thought you two left an hour ago for dinner.”

Shawn shrugged.  “I don't know for certain...  I mean, by now he could be anywhere.  He's always expressed an interest in touring with Alicia Keys...”

“Shawn.”

“We went to Taco Louie's and he insisted on the deep fried beef and bean mini burrito...”

Henry raised his hand again.  Enough said.

“Well whatever you were thinking, I'm still not talking the Chief out of her decision.  You're bored?  How about you work on the burglary case I gave you.”

“Daaaad... the Redbox robberies?” Groaning, Shawn flopped on his back and sprawled dramatically. Officers passing back and forth shot glances at the display and Henry rubbed his face in embarrassment.

“Dammit, Shawn, get off the floor! You look like an idiot!”

Shawn sat up but didn't stand.  Nor was he ready to let go of his latest complaint.

“Come on!  Dad, Redbox?  That is so... not sexy!”

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

This one is an Iron Man character exploration regarding Tony’s relationship with Obie and that, with hindsight, he realizes Obie had been grooming him.  It will never cross that crucial line but the potential leaves Tony reeling.  This will be in the same universe as another short fic titled “Simple Math”.  Here’s the bit of writing I’d put together so far:

_____

He'd thought it was bonding; at the time.  His dad had never been one for just hanging out; shooting the shit; telling tales out of school.  No, Pops, when he bothered to interact, led with questions.  “You keeping your grades up?” “You still seeing that floozy?” “When are you going to pull your head out of your ass and grow the hell up?” “You do realize it's my name you're disgracing every time you go on a bender?”

With Obie it was just, easy.  Obie might ask about school but it was always with approval and pride.  He would discuss Tony's conquests as though Tony had climbed Kilimanjaro wearing nothing but underwear and a cape.    

Obie was there when his father wasn't. Which meant that Obie was always there.  The first time he got astoundingly drunk on his father's scotch, Obie was the one to help him hunch over the toilet and vomit expensive, aged booze into the toilet.  Obie was also the one to replace the depleted bottle to keep Howard in the dark.  For a fourteen year old kid still trying to gain his dad's favor, that had meant everything.

He saw his first porn with Obie; sex education ala Traci Lords, three months shy of his fifteenth birthday.  That was the same time he was introduced to weed.  Obie had cautioned him to use it sparingly; didn't want to fry that genius brain, he'd say, and ruffle his hair.  The porn had made him uncomfortable.  Obie had turned it off and told him they could watch whatever Tony wanted.  They'd ended up changing the station to Knight Rider; smoking and munching Cheetos and laughing over their orange fingers.

It was Obie who was there, arm around his shoulders, after his parents died.  He desperately didn't want to sob in front of the man.  Things were so complicated with his dad that all he felt was blinding guilt... as though some part of him had caused this.  But Obie had filled him with bourbon until the emotions got soft around the edges and he'd sat beside the older man, head tipping gradually to the right until he was held up by Obie's bicep. Obie had just slung and arm around him and let Tony pass out while he rubbed a broad hand up and down his arm.

It was strange, now, looking back with adult perspective.  A perspective that included Afghanistan and his intended execution and Obie's arm around his shoulders while he talked about legacy and responsibility while Tony's lungs slowly seized.  He'd taken the time to sit there – arm around Tony's shoulders while one broad hand traveled up and down Tony's bicep – just like when he was a kid and Obie was the whole world.

He'd tried to remember if it had felt so tainted... at the time.  Or if he'd always believed it was love.

Obie had never quite crossed that line. Though hindsight offered a peek into that possibility with enough clarity Tony had fought with his cramping gut for nearly thirty minutes.  He'd staved off vomiting though he was fairly certain his dignity had still been in tatters what with Bruce wandering in on his misery.

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

Gosh... It’s funny that when asked the question the first thing that I ponder is “what head canons?? what are characters??? Do I even watch tv???” So I needed to ponder a bit.

As far as it goes my favorite head canons are not typically ones that I myself have come up with.  And going with that maybe the best one I know is for the series, and character, Sherlock.

I’m am 100% all in on Sherlock being on the autism spectrum.  Yes, I know this is attributed to MANY characters but consider the fact that those reasons have a ton of validity.  Sherlock has very strong indications of being on the spectrum and having read quite a number of essays on the subject, many of which were written by people who are also on the spectrum, I’m completely convinced.  It’s to the point I don’t even like calling it a “head canon” as that implies it’s only a fan concept and therefore has less likelihood.  It just feels so deliberate with that character.  

So going off from that I would say, in a more general sense, my favorite head canons are they type where we can discover neurologically atypical traits in characters - especially heroes.  Too long anyone neurologically divergent is portrayed either as a victim or, FAR FAR worse, as the “crazed villain” and frankly that is disgusting.  So it is beyond refreshing to suddenly have this amazing, brilliant, layered person who also displays autistic traits.  In going back over characters that I’ve loved most there are many who have traits of this sort that, only in hindsight, do I recognize.  Just a few off the top of my head; Malcolm Bright, Shawn Spencer (100% ADHD), Rapunzel, Rick Simon (remember him? lol), Adrien Monk (his OCD was very deliberate), as well as characters who’ve developed trauma after horrific events such as, well, most MCU characters but particularly Tony Stark and Stephen Strange.  Malcolm Bright also very much was built from trauma but I also am convinced there are neurologically atypical traits at play.  

Thank you so much for the great ask!!        

[nobodies-png]

I see some poor anon lost their best friend and I lost my mother just recently. May I request some hc's of how the organization members would (at least try to) comfort someone who has lost someone dear? It's okay tho if you don't want to ^^ - M

 awe, sorry to hear that, nonnie ! and sorry for replying to this one so late too, hope 2020 brings you a lotta joy and happiness ! 

Xemnas : 

A part of him can relate to that feeling, even if he doesn’t understand exactly why or how. Nonetheless, Xemnas would simply listen to every word you had to get out of your chest - but if none come out, he’ll gladly stay by your side in absolute comforting silence. Sometimes, peace and quiet to calm the mind can do more than endless words of encouragement. And he’d be too awkward to just go and give you a hug, so the only thing he can do is offer you his company, along with time and a safe space to get your thoughts and feelings in order.

Xigbar :

One would expect Xigbar to take you to some whacky adventures so you can distract yourself from those negative thoughts and feelings - but he’s also dealt with his fair share of loss and he’s found that facing the facts and coming to terms with them helps more than idle and mindless fun. Of course, it takes time to gather the courage and stability to do so - but if you ever need a reality check and some down to earth advice for something this serious, Xigbar’s your guy. Honor the past and cherish the good memories, but dont dwell so much on them. Don’t let them hold you back !

Xaldin : 

Hands down, Xaldin s u c k s at comforting people, specially as a Nobody and his complex relationship with f e e l i n g s. What is he supposed to say in these situations ? Hell, even giving you a pat on the back is hard for him. Like, is it okay for him to do so ? What if you start crying ? ? Because of this, he can only say he’s a good listener, maybe give you some general words of advice here and there. However, he wouldn’t be against cooking something for you - a nice warm meal followed by a good rest is usually what he does whenever he has a bad day. You’re even welcome to steal from the cookie jar and brag about it to Demyx and Axel.

Vexen :

As a scientist, it’s very easy for Vexen to detach himself from emotional situations and come up with a straightforward and cold reply to your loss. It’s the way he deals with things that require a heart, after all. Brain = good. Heart = confusing. Easy peasy. Of course, when he realizes that this method clearly doesn’t work and that you’re about to smack him, Vexen would feel a b i t guilty and offer to help in a different way. It’s very easy to let yourself go after losing someone and accidentally adapt some unhealthy habits - this is where he comes in, helping you make a schedule so you don’t end up oversleeping, skipping meals or avoid being active.

Lexaeus : 

Lexaeus is also a silent listener, it’s just kinda how he rolls. But unlike Xaldin who struggles with it, Lexaeus is good at comforting others without the need of words. Definitely one of the very few people in the organization that would hug and hold you for as long as you need, not caring if you stain his coat with tears. His aura and willingness to protect others can make anyone feel safe with him, so you’re in good hands. Lexaeus would even give you one of his little puzzle toys, in case he can’t be around. They might be small, but they sure help a lot to distract you for a while and remember that he’s got your back. 

Zexion :

Zexion might be emotionally constipated due to his status as a Nobody, but he’s no stranger to the negative emotions of the human psyche. If you reach out to him, he’d be willing to help - but you gotta keep in mind that he’s still a kid at heart and hasn’t found the proper way to cope and deal with his own feelings. Still, Zexion makes up for his lack of knowledge when it comes to comforting with his extense collection of books ! He’d recommend you things to read, both literature you two could discuss as a past time and articles about dealing with loss and grief. He’d also make use of his powers to create illusions you might enjoy if you’ve had a particulary rough day.

Saix : 

Saix doesn’t comfort, at least not so openly like other members. His approach is pretty much the aftermath of Vexen’s idea to give you a schedule - so long story short, Saix is the one who’d enforce and make sure you follow it. Which means he’s gonna be on your ass most of the time and as annoying as that might sound (Demyx feels so bad for you because of this) if you squint really really hard, you’ll notice that he does care about your wellbeing. “You have to keep on moving” he’d say, while sending you into your 6th mission of the day, which simply consists on taking care of a few heartless and some general recon. You’ll also find that most of your reports have been already filled out, but hey, don’t ask him.

Axel : 

Another awkward guy - Axel has trouble comforting friends, but damn if he’s not going to try. The way he speaks is more than enough to cheer you up, or at the very least give you back that passion you had prior your loss, it’s like he sparks a fire in you ! You just gotta go all out, ride all of this out and. Cry, scream, feel everything you gotta feel and then kick back with people you can trust, eat some ice cream with them. Allow yourself to be vulnerable and held. Axel would totally invite you to join him, Xion and Roxas to their whacky adventures around Twilight Town.

Demyx : 

Very obvious, but Demyx would encourage you write a song about it. It’s what he does to sort his feelings out, figure out what feels right in the end. And besides, learning how to play an instrument is always fun - you also got the best (and only) music teacher in the organization ! If that’s not your cup of tea, then you can try any other artistic outlet. Dancing, writing, etc etc. Demyx is fully aware that fortnite dancing at 3 am is not going to fix his problems, but it sure helps him stay grounded and remember that life is not as serious as we make it out to be.

Luxord : 

Luxord is very polite, so he won’t pry into your business - but the second he notices little changes in you like that permanent tired expression or the way you sigh a little too much on a daily basis, he’d invite you over for tea, subtly give you an excuse to talk to him and vent should you need it without being too invasive or forward. If you still can’t or refuse to open up, Luxord would take you for a walk around Wonderland or another colorful and fun world, giving you some advice in the form of his cryptid ramblings. When a door closes, another opens - and if there aren’t any, then you just have to open a window, get some fresh air and a new perspective.

Marluxia :

Marluxia can also relate to that. Surprisingly, he’d be very gentle, asking if you’d like to share some happy memories you have with that someone. Maybe even set up a small makeshift “shrine” in their honour, of course covered with their favorite flowers. He’s just happy to help you, listening to you reminisce and remember them with a smile on your face. It’s very shocking to see this side of him, given how flamboyant and eccentric he can be - but those passing encouraging smiles Marluxia gives you whenever he sees you are a great comfort.

Larxene :

Larxene is… Not the best choice if you want to be comforted. Her method is an extreme version of Xigbar’s, she’ll simply offer a quick “deal with it” and a hard “grow up and accept it”. While she might be impulsive and very emotional Larxene is actually a very logical person with a good understanding of her own feelings. What you can learn from her is that everyone needs to ultimately find their own way of coping and dealing with grief, no one else can tell you how or when to feel a certain way no matter how good their intentions might be. Take the good advice, but don’t depend on others for everything. Your way might be unconventional, but as long as it’s not hamrful for yourself and you’re aware of your limits, it’s good enough.

Roxas :

Roxas doesn’t know what to do, at all. So he’d simply ask about what YOU want to do now. How would you like to deal with these feelings and such. He’ll be there right next to you, even if you just wanna cry and sleep it off or if you want to distract yourself and never speak about it. Roxas is there, holding your hand all the way and making sure you know you’re not alone. Like Marluxia, he might also ask about the person you lost, just out of curiosity. And then maybe internally facepalm because oh shit, what if you don’t want to talk about it. The way Roxas worries about you, stuttering apologies and awkwardly explaining that he simply wants to make you feel better is so endearing that you can’t help but feel safe and sound.

Xion :

Xion would simply take you to Destiny Islands, to watch the waves, feel the sand and the sun on your skin. She wouldn’t ask at all, instead explaining that this is the place she goes to whenever she’s feeling confused, lost or just a little under the weather - and now, she wants to share this with you. You don’t have to say a thing, Xion doesn’t need to know your pain to realize that you just need a friend and a shoulder to cry on. Someone to rely on. The two of you would just spend the afternoon picking up seashells, exploring the island and relaxing. She’ll gladly listen if you have anything to say, but it’s okay, you’ve done enough. Let her take care of you now.

[stillness-in-green]

Changeling: The League (2/3)

Being the next installment of my deeply nerdy spur-of-the-moment decision to do up a bunch of My Hero Academia villains as Changeling: The Lost characters.  For some introductory info and the League of Villains, check this post.  Or hit the jump for the Meta Liberation Army!  

THE METAHUMAN LIBERATION ARMY

Considerably reduced from what they are in canon (I don’t think there are 116,000 changelings in Japan, much less that many changeling dissidents!), the leaders of the MLA are instead a band of secret loyalists for the Keeper called Destro, who have spent a great many years preparing for a chance to bring him to the real world in full glory, unhindered by time limits or reduced powers.  The requirements are many and arcane, with a huge number of ways things could fall to disarray.  Thus they find to their great alarm that their prophecies are suddenly skewing when the truth of Shigaraki’s durance/Keeper comes out--there are two “heirs,” it seems, and fate is swirling, and it will only settle over one of them in the end.  

The group has its fingers in some of the more obscure fluff-book magic--fate-crafting, oracular dreams and the like--and collectively share a massively decked-out Hollow.

Re-Destro

Quote: “Everyone has a purpose to serve.”

Type: Gargantuan Ogre/Treasured Fairest dual kith.  The incarnation of Destro’s will.  Born in Faerie, he spent his early years being instructed (and molded) always--stand up straight, speak more clearly, be stronger, be better, you are the one who will herald me.  Re-Destro was delivered out of the Hedge at seven years old clutching a squall knife as long as his arm, his mind filled with the knowledge that he was the one who would see Destro ushered into the real world.  He was welcomed, open-armed, by those changelings who had been sent before.  He has spent over thirty years in the real world since then, scrupulously maintaining a startlingly high Clarity, but Destro whispers in his dreams more nights than not, and Rikiya (as he was named, though he has a true name his mother whispered against his head as an infant, now long forgotten) has always had the nagging feeling that the mundane Earth is not his true home.  

A tall, stiff-shouldered man in his Mask, Rikiya looks much as he does in canon, though without the stress spots on his forehead and with a nose that’s merely prominent, rather than a cartoonishly huge beak.  He’s quite tall and can go from mildly unassuming to toweringly imposing on a dime.  In mien, his hair goes more coppery and his skin becomes unblemished marble, the palest shade of jade in color, tinging ever so slightly darker around his joints.  His nose returns to its canonically proper glory, and the places where his hairline recedes in his mask are revealed to be making room for a pair of broad, curving horns, emerald green at the tips.  He’s unusually clean-hewn for an Ogre, not handsome, per se, but undeniably striking.  When he uses his kith blessing, he grows to profound sizes (shredding even the most cleverly crafted Hedgespun), easily as tall as a two storey building.  Naturally, he tries not to do that kind of thing around mortal witnesses.

Rikiya’s Wyrd is getting quite high (it was high even as a child, as might reasonably be predicted), so particularly sensitive or addled humans will sometimes see or experience fragments of his true form--his unyielding skin, a brief glimpse of the shadow of his horns, the echoing weight of his footsteps on stone floors.  His potent Wyrd and his affinity with the home of the Gentry means that his magic sometimes leaks into objects he keeps on his person for too long--it’s an issue he’s aware of, and practically speaking, it mostly means that he never wears anything more than a day in a row.  He has a staggering variety of suits and ties.  

Court/Mantle: Courtless.  With high-ranking friends in a sprawling freehold overseen by Directional Courts, Rikiya makes rounds in all of them.  He’s a deft hand with Hedgespun and his works are in high demand at even the most discerning changeling markets.  His home is in the center--close to the epicenter, in fact.

Contracts: Barbarically focused, though he uses both of his contracts sparingly.  His experience has gone more into his, shall we say, inherent magic.  

        Vainglory I-V.  Even when playing the role of a popular but unranked freehold member, or a canny designer of mundane accessories, Re-Destro has never forgotten who and what he is, and when he’s using these Contracts, that comes out with psyche-bruising force.  His higher-tier invocations tend to cause his colors to mottle somewhat, infusing to darker shades of green around his face--the hollows of his eyes particularly--and extremities.  

        Stone I-V.  Unbelievably strong whenever he needs to be.  He tries to avoid combat or let his underlings handle it when he can--he has very few problems maintaining his Clarity, but causing harm to others is a surefire way to disturb it--but when he does break these out, he’s as difficult to put down as a berserker.  Tends to take relaxing vacations after any occasion where he’s had to really work this. 

Curious 

Quote: ”You’ve got the look of someone with a story to tell.  I want to hear all about it.”

Type: Cleareyes Beast.  Once upon a time, she was a journalist with a nose for a story--well, she’s a journalist still, with a nose like you wouldn’t believe.  Talented and quick-witted, both traits won her attention from Destro’s “recruiters,” but it was her tenaciousness that finally saw her brought in from the snow and the hunts, a semblance of a human form returned to her, and the bright ambrosia of purpose poured down her throat.  Delivered to Re-Destro when he was in his 20s, Chitose is a hunter and a dream-spinner, a trickster with a deft and ruthless touch for talecrafting.  She remembers the headiness of blood on her tongue, and she can always smell a bleeding heart.  

A fox changeling, though given her bent of viciousness and her unusual coloring, you could be forgiven for thinking her a kumiho or a particularly wicked kitsune.  In mien, she has long, thick white hair and a pair of white tails (three in the dreamscape), tipped in black like stained ink brushes, that match her long, tufted ears.  Her whole body’s covered in a fine layer of silken fur; she’s got a lupine lengthiness to her features and sharp teeth in her smile.  In her mask, her hair’s rich and dark and she seems to have a perpetual healthy glow to her skin, tipping into a noticeably high, intemperate flush when her passions are aroused.  A beauty in either form, she has thin, seemingly delicate wrists and ankles, but moves with a quick, decisive grace.  Her eyes are blue with just a hint of the green they used to be, the color standing out sharply from the ring of her black eyelashes.  

Court/Mantle: The South, seat of ecstasy.  Chitose remembers the purity of her emotions in Faerie, remembers heights of euphoria and shocks of terror that stole her breath away, but out in the real world, she feels muted and muffled, never quite fulfilled, as if she’s always groping for an outstretched hand that’s just out of reach.  The Court of Song gets her closest to that reckless, all-pervading sensation, and so she throws herself headlong into its giddy pursuit of obsession.  Her mantle wraps her in a sensual warmth and, when she’s particularly worked up, wisps of thin white smoke scented like heady incense or burning sugar.  Every so often, when her eyes catch the light in a dark room, they reflect red instead of green.

Contracts: 

        Den I-III.  She considers herself to have every right to be wherever she finds herself and is not about to let a home security system stop her when she’s chasing any sort of rabbit.

        Dream I-IV.  Whether she’s digging for a story or pushing a narrative, dreams are fruitful ground with a multiplicity of uses, none of which she’s squeamish about implementing.  Curious is a terror, asleep or awake.  

        Omen I-III.  While she’s not much interested in fortune-telling as a method for long-term strategic planning (you want Skeptic for that), she does absolutely have a use for powers that give her visions of someone’s worst memory or upcoming major life events.  

Skeptic

Quote: “Do you have any idea what kind of shitstorm we have coming down on us?  What?  You can’t see the future?  I guess that means you should shut the hell up and stop distracting those of us who have something useful to contribute then, doesn’t it?!”

Type: Oracle Wizened.  Destro knew that his followers would need someone who could properly interpret signs and portents, so set his recruiters to finding someone with an eye for secret signs, a knack for the languages of symbolism and metaphor.  Most of them brought back psychics or sensitive children, but one particularly old recruiter, for whom “computers” were a new and strange novelty, brought back Tomoyasu.  An electronics whiz-kid from a young age, Tomoyasu was in high school at the time, but already doing college prep.  He was driven and competitive but, crucially, willing to explain things to people who didn’t understand them.  In Faerie, his eyes were opened (forcibly, sometimes with clamps) to a great many more languages and codes, and his competitive personality honed to a vicious edge because you did not want to be a failure, not at any cost.  

Now that he’s been sent back to the real world, Skeptic has a presence in many realms.  He’s still quite good with computers, of course, but there’s the much more important work of Destro that needs to be done, and that involves both tasks for now and plans laid for later.  As such, he maintains dream pledges with a number of psychics (mostly fresh ones, though there are a few shattered survivors from amongst his rivals for his current position).  Unlike Curious, he isn’t interested in digging in their dreams or using them as staging grounds for larger projects; he only needs them to help him fill in his understanding of the future.  He and Re-Destro do a great measure of the work in maintaining the group Hollow.  

Rail-thin and gangly, Skeptic stalks about his environment with a constant sense of bloody-minded productivity.  He’s rarely without a laptop or tablet tucked in one arm and wears exclusively black, which just adds to the impression of being The World’s Gothiest Scarecrow.  His eyes are always hidden, behind his long bangs, razor-thin sunglasses, or--on more formal Court occasions--a broad silk blindfold, but glimpses of them are always alarmingly bloodshot.  In mien, his hands and arms are dotted with tattoos and scarification, faerie glyphs and sigils, and his eyes are filmed with blood.  He may not actually have eyelids--certainly no one has ever seen him blink.  Usually has a sword or the emblem of one on his person somewhere--a custom of his Court, because the heavens know he’s no swordfighter.

Court/Mantle: The West, seat of honor.  Very much a means to an end.  Skeptic has little interest in martialtry, but the needs of Destro demand that someone do it, and his obsessive perfectionism and rigidly high standards for himself make him the best fit--and anyway, the Court of War does need strategists.  He’s learned how to handle weapons in a perfunctory sort of way, but he’s a much better shot with a rifle than one would expect from the state of his eyes, especially if he’s got some time to spend fidgeting with one for a little bit before he has to fire it.  His mantle is relatively low, compared to most of his motley-mates, and manifests as a penetrating chill to the air and a slightly sharper tang of blood-smell than just his red-rimmed eyes can explain.  

Contracts: 

        Animation I-V.  You don’t have to waste time learning how to operate anything if the object itself will tell you how to use it, and you don’t have to stand around waving a sword at people when you can have the sword wield itself.  “Inanimate” nothing; as a rule, he likes objects better than people.  

        Artifice I.  Object touchy because it’s busted?  Nothing a bit of magic can’t fix (at least for long enough to get the job done.

        Hours I-IV.  The result of Skeptic’s understanding of objects crashing together with his oracular abilities.  The time magic he can work on inanimate objects is very useful (and yes, the way Shigaraki warps the first clause of this drives him absolutely mad), but the real miracle is what the ability to control time dilation in the Hedge does for his and his motley’s productivity.

Trumpet

Quote:  “I’m sure we’ll succeed.  After all, we’re the ones he chose.” 

Type: Fairest Muse.  The only member of the MLA motley proper that has any ambivalent feelings about The Destro Revival Festival.  He’s about Re-Destro’s age, but was kidnapped at a much less tender age than the rest, well into his adulthood.  He was an up-and-coming civil servant at the time, then spent longer than he can remember in Faerie, rallying crowds and practicing speeches until his throat bled and cracked into silence, learning to channel some portion of Destro’s white-hot conviction and magnetic presence, for all that being vessel to those traits felt like it burned the soul out of him.  Hanabata was charismatic and persuasive while he went in and his time in Faerie amplified those traits beyond belief, but he isn’t so broken as to believe that Destro did him some kind of favor.  

He is, however, quite broken enough to believe that Destro is undefeatable and that he has no real choices in the matter.  He was returned barely a week after he was taken in real-Earth time, dropped on Re-Destro’s lap when the latter was just getting started in establishing himself.  He’s spent the twenty years since then doing whatever needs to be done in order to smooth Re-Destro’s path (he’s unusually prominent in human politics for a changeling; indeed, he’s amassed some fairly significant temporal authority) and watching the rest of his ordained motley grow up.  They’re really the only people keeping him going; Hanabata thinks they’re far more damaged than he, and in many ways he’s right--he has a much clearer grasp on what they’ve all lost, even if some of them never had it to begin with--but he’s also very badly hurt in his own way, lacking even the devoted fervor of the cause to fill up the empty spaces left in what used to be his optimism.  

His mask looks like the Trumpet of the canon, minus the ever-present sense of pomade and the facial hair that can’t decide if it wants to be a mustache or not; he’s just clean-shaven.  He has a wry, expressive mouth and a nearly hypnotic voice, a baritone by turns soothing or rolling.  There’s an indefinable sense of presence to him; just looking at him makes brave people want to strike up a conversation and timid people lurk about in vague hopes of leeching up some of his confident vibes. His mien just amplifies it; he’s impossibly magnetic, with strong features and eyes the kind of green you could get lost in.  His voice is even more of a marvel here, resonant and penetrating in ways humans couldn’t typically manage without augmentation.  When out in public, he wears a camera-ready smile as faithfully as a wedding band; in private, he’s markedly more subdued.   

Court/Mantle: The East, seat of envy.  Trumpet’s talents make him marvelously well-suited for this Court, but it isn’t just a matter of practicality, as the Court of the West is for Skeptic.  No, Trumpet is intimately familiar with the thumbscrew feeling of envy--no free changeling can even begin to grasp how bitterly he covets their ignorance.  His mantle can be difficult to pick apart from the gripping presence of his seeming, but when he’s working magic, it’s frequently accompanied by the bizarre sense to onlookers that he’s taller than he really is.  Even if someone is standing right next to him and knows perfectly well that they’re taller than him, sometimes they’ll blink and their eyes will lie, vision inverting such that Trumpet seems to be looking down at them.  Every so often, when he’s on a roll, his eyes will gleam the perfect yellow-white of the sun reflecting on newly-minted coins.   

Contracts: 

        Vainglory I-III.  Not as advanced in his understanding of this Contract as Re-Destro, but the effect is considerably more potent when he’s using it.  

        Hearth I-V.  As engrossing as it is to listen to him talk, Trumpet’s real talent is in inspiring others, and the Contracts of fair and foul fortune just amplify that.   

        Fleeting Spring I and Fleeting Autumn I.  First levels of the seasonal contracts don’t require Seasonal Court goodwill, but he’d probably get it from any Spring Court in the country anyway.  Envy is close cousins with Desire, after all.  Whichever the case, manipulating people is easier when you know both what they want and what they fear.

Geten

Quote: “Ice is never far away.  Prepare yourself.”  

Type: Snowskin Elemental.  Geten remembers little of their time before Faerie--in fact, they have very little recollection of the passage of any of the time that must have brought them to their current age.  Their memory is like one huge block of ice, solid from wall to wall with cold and scarcity.  If some of that scarcity, back at the very beginning, is colored in a different palette than Destro’s winter, well, it’s still of a piece with the rest, so what does it matter?  All of their life was the winter--until Re-Destro appeared and chose them.  Out in the real world, Geten knows, intellectually, about the whole “herald of Destro” thing and devotes themself to the cause with admirable fervor, but in truth, that fervor is far more dedicated to Re-Destro than it is their True Fae Keeper, of whom Geten recalls next to nothing.  Generally serious and driven, Geten enjoys feeling that their actions have meaning beyond just keeping them alive, so they’re never happier than when they’re fighting for Re-Destro in concrete, measurable ways.  Generally poorly socialized in ways that would make their life much more difficult if they didn’t have Rikiya looking out for them.  

In mask, Geten is a slight youth with shoulder-length, white-blonde hair and unusual pale gray eyes.  They have a delicate-looking face that’s incongruous with their rather feral personality.  In mein, their hair is fully white, as are the glowing pupils of their eyes.  Their already fair skin goes bloodlessly pale, and even on the hottest day, their features are kissed with a rime of frost.  They wear long sleeved, full-length clothes at all times of the year, though curiously, they dress more heavily in summer than in winter.  

Court/Mantle: The North, seat of suffering.  Something of an unusual case in their freehold, where the power of the Directional Courts holds sway, Geten emerged from the Hedge with a strong Winter mantle.  No matter that they’re sworn to the Armor Court, that raw affinity to the Court of Sorrow remains.  This odd duality, seen by some as untrustworthy, has largely kept them from advancing very far despite their apparent dedication to the Stupa’s focused, ascetic lifestyle.  They’re frequently mistaken for being courtless, particularly in a freehold that’s less familiar with the look of the Silent Arrow than those who move in Seasonal Court circles would be.  The lack of any obvious sign of a mantle is itself the tell--Winter always makes its changelings look more stark, as if somehow etched more clearly into the fabric of the world, unobscured by other connections.  Likewise, their magic is all ice-themed anyway, so many don’t realize that the brief gusts of snow around them are a sign of their mantle--but every so often, there will be a brush of pale ash on those winds, a sign that, for all that Winter lives in their bones, Geten has still embraced the North.  

Contracts: These speak for themselves.  Geten’s power set, more than anyone in these posts, hews closely to canon!Geten’s quirk meta-ability.  

        Elements (Ice) I-IV.  Exacts control over ice.  They’re protected from it, they’re protected by it, they control it, and it answers their call (though their range is not anywhere close to canon!Geten’s).   

        Communion (Ice) I-III.  Very unlike canon!Geten, the changeling version is ice-born enough that they speak with it like kin.  Ice isn’t much of a gossiper, as elements go, but it reflects things, sometimes, and knows the shape of everything it touches.  They can extend this awareness as far out as a mile in most weather, though the range is much shorter in e.g. a blizzard, when trying to take in that much information would be overwhelming.  

        Eternal Winter I-III.  Don’t have ice?  Make your own!  Again, not as wide-ranging as canon!Geten’s, but serves much the same purpose.  Geten can also, like Spinner, perform emergency thermostat duties, though Spinner’s control over heat allows him to turn it up or expel it, while Geten’s is only ever going to make things colder.

BONUS TIDBITS: 

Changeling!Re-Destro needs to be able to get around in the human world without being prone to fits of hallucination and delirium, and his magic isn't dependent on his stress levels, so unlike his canon self, he gets to have actual vacation time, do soothing yoga, etc.

Geten and Curious had some durance overlap, but neither of them remember it clearly.  Curious’s memories of that time are too patchy, while Geten’s are too hard to pare down into individual moments.  Geten does feel a sense of familiarity towards Curious, but they don’t talk about it much after the one time they described it as being, “Like she was...inside me, for a while,” and everyone looked really weirded out.  

Changeling!Geten is nonbinary because It’s My AU And I’ll Do What I Want.  They are made of ice and do not really understand what the deal is with gender.

Magne doesn’t die in this AU because It’s My AU And I’ll Do What I Want.  She and Curious have to team up to brainstorm a strategy for an epic oneiromachy duel with Destro that will decisively eject him from Rikiya’s dreams without reducing Rikiya to a drooling husk.    

Trumpet is the true wild card in this AU.  The other Destro-ites have never really even considered the prospect of breaking free from Destro; Trumpet has, but rather than that making him the person who’s the easiest to sway, it makes him the person most resolutely convinced that betraying Destro will lead only to suffering.  The lengths that conviction will drive him to make him a severe danger to his motley the moment they begin considering abandoning their mission.

[ardentprose]

Trials of Hope

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: mention of suicidal thoughts. depictions of depression and panic attacks.

Summary: Progress always comes with setbacks. Among all the good days, one unfortunate night appears in which every coping mechanism fails and you are forced to reach out for help. To be reminded that you are not alone.

Song: Sea by BTS (fanmade lyric video (not mine))

My fingers slide over the phone screen. My thumb trembles as I open the messaging app. In the top three conversations lies his name. Funnily enough, I haven’t texted that much to warrant such a high spot. However, the fact I’m even tapping on his name and staring at the keyboard is its own explanation. 

Hoseok is just short of a friend. But in this moment, he’s all I have. 

Hey, are you up?

After several rewrites I send the text. A shuddering sigh exhales past sore lips, bitten beyond relief and trapped between my teeth even now as I dread the response. Regret floods my chest as soon as the check mark appears. He’s up. Now what do I say?

Hey! I’m up lol. What’s up?

Before I can comprehend it, I’m backpedaling down the cliff from my insistent thoughts and sending a harmless text. 

I’m bored lol. What are you doing? 

This doesn’t concern him. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t be asking him for help when I barely know him. Thoughts such as these overtake my mind, confirming my regret for even contacting him.

I set the phone down on the table and gaze around the unlit space. Only the city lights of night time Seoul flash across the carpet, casting my lonely figure and the living room in a melancholy blue. Under the same blue lights, my roommate Eliza and I lay across one another on the couch, talking about whatever comes to our minds. The muted atmosphere only adds to the domesticity. But now that she’s away, and I’m alone, they’ve become a reminder that each light has a life connected to it. And each one will go to bed with someone they care about close by. 

I tuck my feet beneath me and sink lower into the couch. Closing my eyes doesn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from targeting my psyche. 

You’re such a fool. An idiot for thinking you were strong enough. You’ll never escape this. You’ll always be this way. There will never be an end-

I dive for the vibrating phone on the table and answer it without blinking. 

“Hello?” A harsh sting covers my lip at how raspy my voice sounds. Hopefully, he’ll credit it to the phone signal.

“Hey,” Hoseok’s voice is piqued with interest. “If you’re so bored, why aren’t you asleep?” 

The playful question only presses guilt further in my chest. I pull the phone away to clear my throat and test out the tonality of a voice that’s been crying for the past three hours.

I force a chuckle to cover how miserable I really am. “How about you? What are you doing up so late?”

Hoseok hums and I can see his smile and twinkling eyes clear as day. “I’m working on a new song.” 

“Oh? Really? What’s it about?” Thankful to have a less threatening topic to focus on, I press him for questions in an almost desperate manner. 

He tsks in response. “That’s top secret. You’ll have to wait until it’s released.” 

The deflation in my chest hurts to a point I was not expecting. My smile falters again into trembling lips and I have to pull the phone away once again to look up at the ceiling and blink away hot tears. 

I suppose I just needed something else to take my attention for awhile, but the entire universe seems to be telling me no. 

“Important business, huh?” I retort after collecting myself again. 

A second goes by before a sharp peal of laughter erupts on the receiver. “Yeah! Yes, that’s exactly what it is. Important business. Top secret.”

I smile and yet tears scald my cheeks until they fall from my chin. Pretending to hold a playful conversation with him, as if mere seconds ago the thought of ending myself wasn’t exploding in my head, is too surreal. My throat constricts past the point of speaking and I lower the phone, tapping the speaker before I set it on the table. 

I grab the nearest couch pillow and bury my face into it. With a death like grip, I squeeze the comforting material to me, hoping to suppress the despair coating me in waves.

The silence no doubt passes as a comfortable one in his mind, as he searches for something to say. 

“How is Eliza doing?” He asks.

“She’s...um…” I swallow down another cry and try to gather the latest news she told me. 

“She’s having lots of fun. Yesterday she went to this sushi bar she really wanted to try out.” I say, clinging to the pillow for dear life. There was no way I was going to ruin her day by telling her years of repressed memories came flooding back. Besides, she would worry and take the next flight home.

Hoseok offers an affirmative noise. Some shuffling of papers can be heard and then what I guess is the squeak of his studio chair as he leans back in it. 

“How are you doing?” 

The words cut through the air snatching my breath. I stare at the lit phone screen as my grip becomes tighter. The rope of desperation curls impossibly tight in my stomach. I part my lips, knowing I have to answer in a reasonable amount of time but my mind can’t fathom a believable response short  of “I feel like I might do something I’ll regret.” 

The silence grows too long and Hoseok’s voice repeats the question, now in a softer, confused tone. “Y/N? Are you still there? Are you okay?” 

The question breaks me and I collapse into my hands, tears unabashedly soaking my fingers. Slippery palms fall past my lips and fail to disguise the sob that breaks through in a fractured word. 

“No-

I don’t know if he can hear me, but there’s no way I’ll be able to collect myself again. Should I just hang up and text him? Create some excuse as to why the call was cut short? 

My hands tremble against my face. I press them against my cheeks, feeling how hot my skin is. Sitting up, the clenching of my stomach becomes suffocating. A strangled breath hitches in my chest as everything goes cold. 

Oh no. Shit. Fuck no.

The signs of a panic attack are bypassed completely. Normally, I would have time to talk myself down before it happens. Due to the past few hours, my body has had enough of being repressed. 

“Hos...Hoseok?” I gasp through a temporary burst of oxygen. 

“Yes? Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” His voice has flown from lax and playful to frightened urgency.

Guilt crushes my response. Instead, I focus on exhaling away the black spots that bloom over my eyes. 

“Sorry...I just...I don’t want to-” 

“Are you home? Do you want me to come over? I’ll be right there. Don’t move, baby, I’m coming. Don’t move. Just...stay there okay?” 

Hoseok ends the call before I can even process his words. Before it dawns on me that he just called me ‘baby’. If I wasn’t fighting to stay conscious, I might be having a completely different breakdown on that alone. 

I shakily stand to my feet, trying to find something to focus on other than the panic numbing me to the core. This wasn’t how I wanted the night to go. I just wanted to sleep. I didn’t want to call Hoseok. I shouldn’t have ever texted him because now-

Now he’ll see me as I really am. 

I stumble to the wall and flick on the lights. I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes, taking deep breaths. Cries faithfully escape my mouth, but I no longer have the strength to mute how pitiful I sound. I gaze around the stark contrast of the room under fluorescents.

I should at least look presentable. I should straighten up. I should wash my face. I could make tea. 

I need to calm down. I need to calm down. I need to calm down. 

All these suggestions make their claim as I sink to the floor and curl in on myself. I focus on breathing deeply, starting over every time a cry cuts short my oxygen. 

Before I’ve gone through the exercise three times, there’s a rapid knocking on the door. 

“Y/N!” Under different circumstances, Hoseok would sound furious rather than panicked. I lift my head, willing myself to at least stop crying long enough to open the door and save some face. 

As soon as I remove the top lock, the door swings open and reveals a distraught Hoseok. Normally put together down to the shoelaces he wears, the disheveled man stands before me anything but. Puffy wide eyes flit all over my face beneath hair sticking up in all directions, some strands falling between his alerted gaze.

He grabs my shoulders, bomber jacket crinkling with the quick motion. 

“What’s happening? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone get hurt? Can I come in?” A volley of questions and his hands push me backwards into the apartment. He slams the door shut with his heel. 

I part my lips but tears only fall in response to all the questions. A horrid choke emits from my throat and Hoseok sighs, nodding his head. 

“I’m here now.” He takes a moment to calm himself down, replacing his worries with his palms sliding down over my shoulders in reassuring squeezes until he grabs my hand in his. 

It’s as if I’ve become paraplegic, subject to only Hoseok’s calm but firm grip situating my body next to his on the couch. He turns on a lamp fully exposing my swollen and distraught eyes. I know how awful I look because I see his eyes widen imperceptibly and his shoulders jerk with an internal gasp. But his mask is more solid than mine and not a word is said about my despairing look. 

He ducks his head so I meet his eyes and when my chin ducks he catches it, ignoring every rule of public decency to raise it in his fingertips and whisper. 

“Look at me. Just breathe with me.” 

I try to inhale but a new wave rises. I grit my teeth. From my shoulders to my stomach, spasms of desperation wrack my body. Hoseok removes his fingertips from my chin and grabs my wrists, yanking on them with gentle urgency brings my palms over his rib cage.

“Y/N. You need to breathe. Feel my chest. Inhale and exhale. Good. Just like that, baby. You can do it.” He repeats his encouragements until with a final shudder I close my eyes and feel the fatigue hit.

“C’mere.” He mutters, collecting me into his chest and resting his chin on top of mine. I inhale his sweet scent, so relaxing and one that embodies the safety of Hoseok to the point I nearly cry again in relief. 

Numbly, I raise my hand to his elbow, gripping the crinkling jacket he still has yet to take off. I turn my forehead to press between his collarbones and sniffle. My nose is disgustingly blocked but he pushes me further against him, as if knowing I was about to draw away. 

“M’sorry.” I whisper into his damp shirt. 

“Don’t apologize.” The words are said with finality and his hand which up until now had been running up and down my back momentarily pauses and presses into my body. 

“Even still,” I raise my head and lean back as far as I can with his arm tucked around my waist. Hoseok gazes down his nose at me, nothing but empathy in his drawn gaze. 

“You shouldn’t have had to see me like this. I shouldn’t have called-”

“I’m glad you called.” He interrupts. “And why shouldn’t you call me? Aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what I’m here for?” His outburst catches me off guard. Had I offended him?

“But-But Hoseok I’m too mu-”

“You’re not nearly enough for me.” Hoseok releases me as if I had burned him. I blink at him several times. The after effects of the panic attack pounds against my skull. I couldn’t decipher the reason his sudden outburst through the oncoming migraine. 

So I say nothing and simply stare. Waiting for him to explain himself.

Hoseok, eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide, and mouth agape, looks at me with the most betrayed expression I have ever seen. 

“Rely on me. I want you to rely on me, Y/N. If I have ever made you feel anything other than safe than tell me, please.” 

“You haven’t. I trust you, Hoseok.” I whisper from a throat raw with abuse.

He runs his hand over his hair and shakes his head. Clearing his throat he looks at me again with a smile and even in the dim lighting of the lamp, I see his blush. 

“I don’t know what’s hurting you and I don’t expect you to tell me. But I do want to know. I want to know you’ll tell someone if you’re not okay. Because I’ve noticed - and not in a creepy way but because I just - uh…” 

For the first time tonight, I smile. Hoseok drops eye contact with me, rubbing the back of his neck as he starts at his mismatched shoes.

“I uh...I care about you and you need to hear that from me. Right? Yes, I care about you more than I have for someone before and- and I think you are one of the strongest people I have ever met. You’re really fucking inspiring even if it feels like you’re just here. B-because I-I can’t even be honest about my true feelings like you can. But every time I hear your story I feel like I can share mine. So don’t stop talking about it. Bu-But you don’t have to tell me...if you don’t want to.” 

He mumbles and smiles and laughs awkwardly but eventually he ends his rambling with a quick glance to my face. 

I meet his nervous expression with one of disbelief. “Me? Strong? Hoseok you don’t even know what I’ve done. I was literally thinking-” 

I cut myself off but Hoseok grabs my hands anyways, gripping them so tightly I resist the urge to wince. His eyes bore into mine and I feel as though he can read my mind, as though he knows exactly what I was going to admit. 

“Y/N.” His voice is shaking. I can’t look at him. 

“Y/N.” Hoarse and pleading. My heart wrenches and before I stop myself I’m meeting Hoseok’s red eyes, wet cheeks and trembling chin. 

“I love you so much. Fuck, I love you. You’re not alone. I’m right here for you.” He swears. The conviction in his voice was more than enough to draw tears to my sore eyes. 

“I-I hate this. I hate this feeling and my thoughts and everything in my life.” The truth comes tumbling out and there’s no stopping it. Somehow, fresh tears stain Hoseok's shirt as I collapse into his awaiting arms. 

“I’ll listen. I’ll listen to all of it. Just tell me everything.” He says in the sweetest, calmest voice I’ve heard him use. 

Stroking my hair, clutching me to his chest close enough to feel his heartbeat against my cheek, I confess my worries, my doubts, my darkness into Hoseok’s chest. I hold onto him for dear life as I whisper all the bad things into the night. And Hoseok, calm as ever, continues to smooth my hair, squeeze my waist, kiss my head and say, 

“It’s alright, love. You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

[chlostertalks]

My Best Guess on the Westworld Timeline

I started watching Westworld during this lockdown and...

HOLY SMOKES. 

I like theorizing about shows, but this is the first time where my brain feels fried from overthinking. 

Here’s my best guess of the timeline up to Season 3, Episode 3 (S3E3). I’ll make an updated timeline as the show progresses (probably towards the season finale).

*MAY 4TH UPDATE: Here’s the new timeline*

2015: Arnold creates Dolores. All the interrogation sessions are of Arnold and Dolores, not Bernard and Dolores. All the times when hosts freeze all motor functions are with Arnold, not with Bernard.

2017: Dolores kills all the robots, Arnold, and herself to stop the opening of Westworld; opens anyway

In the Years in Between:

Akecheta, chief of the Ghost Nation, was on a different loop. He was peaceful, and had a wife. He discovers the massacre and the maze but before he knew the voice inside his head, his narrative was changed, and the Ghost Nation was born.

Ford has Dolores build a new Arnold that they will call Bernard. Dolores knew Arnold best, so she creates Bernard and tests the copy for fidelity (if he was faithful to Arnold’s personality), but allows him to have behaviors unlike Arnold to be separate from Arnold and function in the Mesa.

Dolores is tested by Arnold, but can’t remember that she made Bernard because Ford wipes her memory clean soon after.  

Logan sees the prototypes for Westworld; park needs funding

2021: Dolores meets William during her quest to find the center of the maze; William’s experience leads to his funding Westworld and saving them from closure; leaves photograph behind, showing that William’s tale from Episodes 2-9 set up the pilot and the season finale

After William leaves the park….

Akecheta finds Logan in the middle of a desert after his horse dies. William had spanked the horse with Logan tied to it, and the horse ran as far as it could. Logan is insane and doesn’t know his way out. He told Logan that his kind would come for him, but he learned from Logan that there is another world. Possibly why the system within the Valley Beyond takes on Logan’s image.

In the Years in Between....

William’s daughter Emily meets Dolores at Mr. James Delos’ retirement party. Logan is permanently insane.

Akecheta looks for Logan at Westworld, but he is already gone. He instead finds the Valley Beyond, a door to another world—the Sublime, a safe haven or Garden of Eden, if you will. He tries to take his wife from his former life, Kohana, to the Valley Beyond, and she remembers him, but the Westworld staff takes her away for decommissioning. He was afraid that, if he would die, he would lose her memory. He also noticed that more of his family was decommissioned and replaced.

William convinced Mr. Delos (Logan’s dad) to back Westworld after William bought Logan’s share; shows the possibilities of market research, explaining the ton of data they collected over the years.

The market research turns into achieving immortality, preserving their conscious minds in robot brains/control units and placing the control units in drones. It’s pivoted as the next step in human evolution. This becomes the Delos Project.

William tries, over the next 30 years, to preserve Mr. Delos and bring him back to the real world after he dies of cancer. Mr. Delos’ mind is preserved as a perfect virtual copy in the Valley Beyond, but the problem is bringing that copy into being as a drone in the Mesa and in the real world. If William can do that, the possibilities are endless. However, it fails 149 times, Mrs. Delos dies of a stroke, and Logan goes insane and ODs.

Mr. Delos’ last conversation with Logan becomes Mr. Delos’ cornerstone of his copy in the Valley Beyond.

William visits Dolores frequently at the park, and tells her of the plan of the Valley Beyond.  

Akecheta looks for his love and, for the first time ever, allows himself to die. He hasn’t been updated in 10 years because he had never died. He finds B83 and his love, but sees that she will no longer live. Thus, he dedicates his life to recreating the maze throughout the park so that the other robots can find themselves and be free.

2039: Solomon Build System initiated (we know this from the Westworld Season 3 date announcement)

2049: Francis Beaufort, Caleb’s friend, dies April 4th. It triggers Caleb’s PTSD, and temporarily forces him into a psych ward. This is why Caleb talks to an AI Francis when we are introduced to him S3. 

We know the date from S3E3 when Dolores shows Rehoboam’s prediction of his suicide.

2051: Juliet commits suicide after seeing William’s card from the Valley Beyond. It details the things he did in Westworld, videos and all. She leaves the card behind for Emily to see; it’s inside her 16th birthday present.

William does something truly evil (below) and feels nothing.

In exchange for her saving his life, Akecheta tries protecting Maeve’s daughter. However, William has other plans, shooting Maeve and her daughter, leaving Maeve to die on the maze Akecheta drew, and forcing the Westworld staff to assign Maeve to a new story.

Akecheta finds Ford as he constructs a new story. Ford knew that he was going to die by Dolores’ hand, and told Akecheta that when that day comes, he needed to gather his people and go to the Valley Beyond.

2052/Seasons 1 and 2:

Sets up Westworld for the audience

Maeve tries escaping the first time. (we know this date from the Westworld website—since removed)

Peter Abernathy is decommissioned after he sees a photograph of the real world; turns out to be William’s wife, Juliet

Dolores notices her father’s replacement and her mind gets scrambled; follows the maze once again to find herself and her voice

2052/The Attack (season 1 finale):

Dolores achieves consciousness again via the maze and kills Ford and some board members

Maeve achieves consciousness again and creates an escape army

Charlotte plants Westworld’s entire history and guest data in Peter Abernathy’s head to smuggle out the park; breaks him mentally

In season 3, Charlotte leaves a message for her son Nathan via a host

2052/One Week after the Attack (meat and potatoes of season 2):

Elsie had similar interests as Theresa, who had similar interests as Charlotte. Would make no sense for real Charlotte to kill her, which is why I think Dolores disguised as host Charlotte did.

2052/Two Weeks after the Attack (season 2 premiere and finale)

Bernard washes up on the beach to start season 2. Strand and the Delos security team are in the middle of an investigation, and Strand, Stubbs, and host Charlotte bring Bernard along to see if he can piece together what happened two weeks ago.

Host Charlotte reveals to the team that Bernard is a host (because she’s Dolores in disguise). They enter the house where Ford’s original robots (designed in his own and his family’s image) and discover all the copies of Bernard hanging on meat hooks. Bernard is basically in custody, and host Charlotte forces him to give directions to the security team on where Peter Abernathy’s control unit lives: the Valley Beyond

Bernard and the security team head there. Charlotte sends the info to Delos, and Delos finally sends help off the island after two weeks. Bernard reveals what he did after the attack. Charlotte reveals herself as Dolores and kills everyone.

In the Months in Between….

In the season 2 finale, Bernard and Dolores are back in their host bodies. Dolores saves Bernard’s pearl and implants it in one of his clones. Host Charlotte is functioning, but with a pearl from another host in her control unit. 

Dolores also smuggled 5 pearls out the park.

Bernard shaves his head and tries getting by without people recognizing him. Has a remote that he presses when he wants to attack people or be unbothered. Reads questions off a tablet, one being “would you lie to me, Bernard?” His response: “No. No, of course not.”

Is the ”real” Bernard controlling one of his own copies?

No one���s picked up on Charlotte’s host status other than Stubbs, who is a host himself. He gives Charlotte clearance, and she’s free to leave the park.  

2052/Season 3:

Bernard returns to Westworld after months of hiding (and in spite of a warrant being out for his arrest), and programs Stubbs to protect him. He is looking for Maeve, but finds that she is not only decommissioned, but her control unit is missing. He has a remote and answers questions via a tablet as if he’s talking to Ford.

Maeve is in a simulation within a simulation, and figures it out rather quickly. She’s in a virtual simulation in the Forge; within this simulation, she is a host in War World. Still aware of who she is, she tries busting out the park again. However, she realizes that she’s in a virtual simulation after Sylvester doesn’t recognize her and Lee Sizemore isn’t acting himself. Turns out that the real Lee Sizemore died in season 2, as expected. Maeve, with the help of the copy Lee Sizemore, tries to break out of both the virtual simulation of the Forge and the physical simulation of the parks. Through a help bot in the Mesa, she finds her control unit and makes a break for it, but the help bot is gunned down.

In San Francisco, Serac is introduced as a former park guest and, while at Incite, created the AI technology Rehoboam. I personally believe he is narrating the need for Rehoboam in the S3 date announcement video. He slowly bought out the board (38% ownership over two decades). He’s trying to take over Delos via a mole inside the company (real Charlotte—RIP), and use the intel gathered on Westworld guests to feed into Rehoboam and control the globe outside the park. This is why Charlotte and Theresa had common interests when they were alive. It also explains the plot of season 3: Rehoboam gathers every bit of intel on people to build a new world where, in Dolores’ words, “It’s not about who you are....It’s who they’ll let you become.”

Maybe Serac was a primary shareholder and the very reason why Delos wouldn’t send help until Peter Abernathy and all the park data was smuggled out of Westworld

Someone stole Maeve for Serac. He wants Maeve to kill Dolores, for Dolores’ encryption key unlocks all the data on Delos’ park guests through the years. Maeve doesn’t want to, and motions to kill him, but he stops her with a remote very similar to Bernard’s (most remotes wipe out surveillance tapes, but this one controls a host).

Also in San Francisco, Host Charlotte struggles being inside a different body. She’s learning about Charlotte and her personality as she goes, but is in constant confusion. Could be like the James Delos copies where they lose their minds in trying to achieve fidelity to the original person. Nathan quickly learns that Host Charlotte isn’t his real mom. 

Delos begins testing one of 300 riot robots. 

In the Years in Between….

Dolores makes it into the real world, back into her own body, and cuts her hair into an asymmetrical bob. She begins going after guests that once frequented the park. We see this in the opening scene of the season premiere.

Host Emily begins testing a copy of William for fidelity (season 2 finale post credit)

Season 3 preview: William finds the end of the game

2055: Caleb has a 5-month romantic relationship end by system interference October 2nd. This suggests that Rehoboam controls people’s lives.

We know the date from S3E3 when Dolores shows Rehoboam’s prediction of his suicide. This date is just below her right hand.

2058/Season 3:

Dolores has been hunting down former guests for six years. She begins dating Liam Dempsey, the figurehead of Incite, Inc., for answers. Incite created an AI system called Rehoboam, and it has detected a mole that could be after some IP (real Charlotte with Delos’ IP?). Liam wishes he could turn Rehoboam off, but lost access after his father, the co-founder of Incite, died. Only the original architect (Serac) knows how to turn it off. If he tells her the architect’s name, Rehoboam will know and he will die. Martin knocks Dolores out, and tells Liam that she is a spy; he tries killing her quietly, but she kills all his henchmen, and has host Martin kill real Martin. 

Caleb, an LA resident down on his luck and missing his deceased friend Francis, finds Dolores after she is shot over the melee. 

Dolores clues Caleb in on Rehoboam. It’s an AI system that is the framework of a company named Insight. Insight is doing what Delos tried to do, but in a different way; they collected data years before privacy laws to create a replica world with all these replica people. Moreover, Incite uses Rehoboam to predict how people’s lives will go. In Caleb’s case, he will commit suicide in 12 years, according to his file and based on Rehoboam’s algorithm. It’s why he can’t get a job and get ahead in life. Incite is deciding what people’s lives should be, and predicting people’s outcomes in lives. Dolores’ plan is to free the world from Rehoboam, and take over the world and free the hosts from the Sublime.

But Dolores supposedly hates humans for what they did to her at Westworld. Probably took her a lot of time to start working with one and wanting to give them free choice against Rehoboam.

A copy of William is going to try to save the world (season 3 preview)

We know the year 2058 because the AI technology, Rehoboam, is used in the season 3 release date announcement and gives this date (which I believe hasn’t happened yet):

[deadbiwrites]

for the "send me a ship+sentence", but it's a song lyric: Supercorp + "I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right" (Mitski)

( @swankserene , this one's for you. And it is also too long, so... whoops?)

'I know I've kissed you before…'

It's startling, almost, how warm Lena's forehead is under her lips. She's finally fallen asleep, having daintily downed three bottles of a nice red on her own over the course of… well, who knows how long really. Lena doesn't stir, and Kara sighs gratefully, pulling away and rolling gracefully to her feet. "You're sure you've got her? I can stay, I know Ruby probably has school…"

Sam shakes her head with a sad smile. "Nah, don't sweat it. I have this routine down pat by now. She's gonna be asleep until at least noon tomorrow."

More startling than Lena's drinking is the word 'routine' being used to describe any part of it. "Right. Um, call, if anyone needs anything?"

"I will, but we won't. Go get some sleep, Kara. I've got her handled."

"Okay." Kara steps into Sam's arms, quickly finding herself wrapped up in the sort of hug only a worried mom can give, all reassurance and softness and home. Kara clears her throat as it tightens at the wash of memories she associates with these sorts of hugs, stepping out of the embrace and adjusting her glasses. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

'But I didn't do it right…'

Lena's nervous. 

Obviously she's nervous- giving a speech to several hundred people is never a fun event for her, Kara knows. But there she is, all the same, climbing the steps up onto the stage, her patented work smile fixed in place as her eyes dart around the crowd. Kara grins, pretends to stretch as an excuse to raise her arms over her head, and when Lena spots her, a smidge of her real smile peeks through. Kara waggles her eyebrows, spreading her hands a bit to show off how exactly in the middle of the crowd she is. All the easier for her friend to be able to see her while she's talking.

Lena huffs fondly, takes the podium, and gives the speech that Kara had helped to write, one they're both happy with- proud of, even, especially when one of Kara's jokes pulls a good laugh from those gathered. Lena finds Kara then, and Kara grins at her, a little smug, and blows Lena a big, exaggerated kiss. Lena had wanted to leave that joke out, and so Kara figures she can rub it in a little that it went over so well.

Lena chuckles at her antics, rolls her eyes, and continues on.

Kara relaxes back into her chair, watching as the previously tense crowd does the same.

It really is a great speech. 

'Can I try again…'

Noonan's is stupid busy, even for them, even for brunch on a Sunday. It'd taken almost an hour and a very annoyed name drop from Lena for them to get a table, but she, Sam, Lena, and Alex have been coming here for brunch for like a year, so all these newbies can shove it, for all Kara cares.

Lena and Alex are sharing an entire pot of coffee between them, Sam having opted for tea (something about a headache) and Kara, of course, went with their hot chocolate.

"How can you drink liquid sugar at 10 in the morning?" Alex asks. "Hot chocolate is for cold days outside."

"How can you drink that caffeinated sludge ever?" Kara shoots back.

Alex's mouth drops open in shock, and she cups her hands protectively around her mug. "Kara! The magic bean water can hear you!"

"They need their go juice," Sam says safely. "You don't wanna see that one sans coffee."

Lena's affronted. "Excuse you, we're both lovely regardless of our morning coffee.

"Speak for yourself, Luthor," Alex grumbles, humming happily as she sips. "Mama needs her coffee."

"And you are not lovely when you go without,  don't try to lie to them," Sam chides. She turns to the Danvers sisters. "She once locked herself in the server room- which is freezing cold- because she left her half-empty,  ice-cold coffee in there."

"Yeah, sounds about right," Alex agrees. At Lena's look, she shrugs unapologetically. "Hey, I'm familiar with your work."

"Traitors, both of you," she grumbles. She turns to Kara with her best puppy eyes. "I'm nice before coffee, right?"

Kara squeezes Lena's hand, bringing it to her smiling lips and pressing a quick kiss to the back of it. "You're always my favorite," she says, neatly sidestepping the question.

Lena grins smugly at the others. "See? At least Kara loves me."

Sam rolls her eyes, Alex starts in on Kara because 'Since when am I not your favorite?', Kara jibes back, Lena pretends a bit under all the commotion she's caused as she drinks her coffee, and all is right with the world.

'And again…'

Movie nights are a necessity to Kara. Movies are a good chunk of how she figured out how to be human. They've always been a part of her life on earth.

So when she'd heard Lena say "I haven't seen that one" a few too many times, she'd declared that best friends need to educate one another in pop culture and started catching Lena up. Once a week, they settle on Kara's big, squishy couch in their various styles of pajamas, armed with junk food and every streaming service known to man. It's slow-growing, because usually Lena has to bail after just one or two movies because of work, but they're starting to make real progress. Just last week Kara had started a quote from Tangled, only to have Lena finish it.

She'd rarely been so proud. 

Tonight is different, though, because they're watching movies that Lena has seen but Kara hasn't, and neither of them have work tomorrow. They've powered through a frightening amount of pizza, their snacks are scattered over the coffee table,  and they're just setting in for the third classic Godzilla movie when Lena scoots a little closer to Kara and drops her head on her friend's shoulder. 

"Sleepy?" 

Lena shakes her head, her hair tickling against Kara's neck. "You're just warm."

Kara chuckles, dropping her arm across Lena's shoulders to pull her in closer and planting a kiss on the top of Lena's head. She grins when it makes her friend go just a little more boneless against her. "Sure."

Lena grumbles at her, which is offset entirely by how she burrows further into Kara's side.

Halfway through the movie, she's wrapped up in Kara and several blankets, snoring lightly on the blonde's chest.

Kara doesn't mind.

And again…

Lena's been getting really good at starting up acts of affection, and is a lot less panicky now when they're directed her way, accepting them as what they are rather than some sort of trap. 

So it's been a lot of her initiating hugs, grabbing Kara's hand when she wants to show her something, looping her arm through Kara's when they're walking together. Little things.

So when she'd given Kara a quick, distracted peck on the cheek as she darted out of Noonan's and back to L-Corp, it's totally fine and normal that Kara's a little bit giddy all day. She's just proud of her friend is all, happy that she feels safe enough with Kara to let her walls down. It's a nice feeling that has nothing to do with the phantom feeling of Lena's lips on her face.

Nothing at all.

And it keeps happening.

Outside CatCo, when she drops Kara off after an early lunch/late breakfast.

Leaving Alex's apartment after game night, Lena gives her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

When Kara pays for tickets to that weird foreign SciFi Movie Festival that Lena's been talking about for weeks.

Over and over. But only to Kara. Everyone else gets a hug and a squeeze, no kiss.

And if Kara preens at the attention just a little, well that's nobody's business but hers.

She mentions this to Sam and Alex one day when she's collecting them from whatever drunken adventures they'd gotten up to the night before and both looking worse for wear.

"You know," Sam drawls, "people tend to show affection the way they want to receive it."

"Really?"

Alex nods enthusiastically, suddenly more lively than she's been all day. "Oh, yeah. I read about it in a psych book."

"Maybe you should try giving her a kiss on the cheek," Sam says with a shrug, and if Kara wasn't driving she'd have seen the mischief on her friend's eyes.

"Huh. Okay, I'll do that, then."

She doesn't see the looks this statement receives, either.

**

It's totally an accident. 

Lena goes for a hug after a movie night, and Kara knows what's coming by now- kiss to the cheek, tight hug that's never long enough, step away, say goodbye. 

Easy. She'll give Lena a cheek-kiss before the hug part.

But she gets stupidly nervous for some reason and when Lena turns her head, so does Kara, and her mouth lands sorta sideways against Lena's. 

They both freeze.

After half a beat, Kara pulls away, lets out an awkward half-laugh, adjusts her glasses. She knows her face must be flaming red. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't. I missed?"

Lena smiles, cocks her head to the side. "It's okay. I don't mind."

'Oh.'

"Oh." Kara adjusts her already-straight glasses again. "I um. I didn't mind either."

"No?"

Kara smiles shyly, shakes her head. "No. But, um… would you mind if I maybe tried that again?"

Lena's smile isn't one Kara's seen before,  but she could light up the eastern seaboard with it. "Not at all."

"Cool." And she steps into Lena, and Lena steps into her, and it's everything. 

'And again?'

"...so then, the bad guy was shooting this laser beam at me, and I had to fly super fast to beat him. But don't worry, I win every time."

"Do you?" Lena asks from behind her book, clearly amused.

"I do." Kara's hands slide over Lena's stomach, slick with delicious-smelling cocoa butter that Lena won't let her taste. 

"Every time?"

"I got you. That's all the evidence I need," Kara says, flashing her a charming grin.

"You flirting with me when I'm fat and crabby is exactly why I married you, you know," Lena informs her.

"I thought it was my nice butt. And you're not fat."

"That's just a bonus." Lena tossed her book onto the couch and works her fingers into Kara's hair, scratching lightly at her scalp until Kara's practically purring under her ministrations. "Keep telling me I'm not fat with that much conviction. I'll never believe you, but it's nice all the same."

"Can do." 

"How's the little one?"

Kara closes her eyes, tips her head to the side. "Sleeping."

"I figured- I haven't been kicked in the ribs for almost an hour."

Kara winces. "Sorry. I know it probably sucks, but it's legitimately the coolest thing ever, to me, that you can just… make a human. Like that's insane."

Lena chuckles, cupping her wife's awestruck face lovingly. "It's not so bad when I have you babying me. Not everyone can get authentic Thai at 3:30 in the morning."

Kara shrugs unapologetically. "Other people need to step their game up." Her head cocks suddenly to the side, and Lena knows what's next before Kara even says anything. 

"Duty calls?"

Kara sighs, frustrated. "Yeah, car crash on the bridge. Won't take too long, traffic is just too bad for the EMTs to get to them for like, an hour."

"Be safe."

Kara's gone and back in a blur, now wearing her super suit instead of pajamas. "Always." She presses a kiss to Lena's rounded belly, pulling a laugh from her wife when she seizes her chance and licks some of the cocoa butter off of it. "I'll be back, I have more stories."

"Do I get a kiss too?"

Kara rolls her eyes playfully. "But I already give you so many!"

Lena shrugs. "You knew I was needy when you married me."

Kara huffs at her, grins, leans down, and kisses her deeply.

"You're slippery," Lena mumbles against her lips.

"Cocoa butter."

Lena hums, pulls her into another quick kiss. "You were right, it does taste good."

[makeste]

on AFO and his intentions regarding his “heir”

I was going to do another big post responding to comments and asks and such, but then I ended up getting sidetracked by the very first pair of comments. so for now it’s just this. sorry ;;

@addermoray I think we do agree on a lot of stuff regarding AFO, but I think the main difference is that all of my AFO speculation hinges on the idea that he is eventually going to recover his full strength. Tomura is and has always been his pawn whom he planned on using to fuck with All Might. but an actual successor? idk, I could be completely wrong about this, but despite what he says, I just can’t see AFO voluntarily just giving up and passing on the torch for real.

first of all I don’t buy his diminished-quality-of-life argument. the dude is functionally immortal and has been around for like 200 years. he’s not going to call it quits after only six. not when he knows better than anyone the infinite variety of quirks out there, and that in all likelihood he can eventually find one capable of healing him. (and in fact, Ujiko will likely be getting his hands on the quirk-be-gone bullets shortly, so it probably won’t be long before he discovers what we already know about Eri’s quirk and its potential to restore AFO to full power.) and for that matter, not when he was still capable of fighting All Might at that level in Kamino. he’s clearly a far cry from done just yet, no matter what he says.

second, he’s also far too arrogant and self-serving to bequeath his legacy to anyone else. he views the world as being his for the taking. why would he give that up and let some dumb kid have all the fun instead? but what would be fun would be thoroughly warping and twisting that kid into his tool, and then unleashing him on an unsuspecting world for a while. that would be a lot of fun. but as a temporary thing, not as the new status quo. there is an inherent ‘this is bigger than I am’ type of wisdom in passing something down from yourself to someone else. an understanding that it continues beyond you. and I just can’t see someone like AFO being able to grasp that. it literally runs counter to his very name. one, not two. not him and Tomura. just him. he is, thematically, the complete antithesis of All Might and the other users of One for All. everything he does is ultimately for him and him alone. in the end it’s always for himself.

so I think the whole Tomura thing is just another example of that. Tomura is his little wind-up killing puppet. he gave him his own name not to pass on his legacy, but to label Tomura as his. so that in the end he can lay claim to all the havoc Tomura wreaks. I think we agree on that part. but I just think that once the dust settles and All Might is dead, he intends to step back in and get back to ruling the world from the shadows.

-- which, incidentally, is another reason I don’t think he’s serious about Tomura succeeding him; he knows Tomura well enough to realize that his damaged psyche will incline him more in the direction of simply destroying the world rather than taking it over. and AFO spent two whole centuries accumulating power and “restoring order” to the world. would he really just surrender all of that and let some brat destroy it all on a whim? that doesn’t seem to jive with the guy we saw in chapter 193 at all. I very much got the impression that that guy liked the world. because it was his. his own vast curated collection of quirks and loyal followers. all for him.

so yeah, my read on it is that he’s planning a comeback. I think it lines up with what we’ve seen of his personality, and it makes thematic sense as well -- more than ever after this latest arc, I can’t see Tomura being the final villain. it has to be All for One. he’s the Emperor Palpatine, whereas Tomura has always been more of a Kylo Ren.

anyway I kind of did the whole tangent thing yet again, so let me try to address a few last points real quick. regarding what AFO was hoping for when he got locked up: I think it’s important to remember that regardless of how comfortable he seems with his situation, prison wasn’t ever AFO’s plan A. he’s very good at adapting, and I think he’s made arrangements for Tomura’s “training” to continue even while he’s behind bars (again, gotta have those contingencies), but what happened at Kamino was unexpected. originally he intended to be there to keep an eye on all of this. the fact that he isn’t opens the door to other things also not going quite as planned. you’re probably right, I think, about AFO intending for Tomura to go through this training and character development process to some degree. he’d probably be delighted to hear that Tomura destroyed the hands and no longer appears to need them in order to sustain his anger. but at the same time I think there are things in play that AFO is not aware of and not anticipating. the influence of the rest of the League being one of those factors.

and I also think he’s underestimating how much of a wild card Tomura might be now that he finally has his memories back. the hope is that he goes through this leveling up process and in the end becomes stronger and focuses up and finally becomes dangerous enough to be a real threat to All Might and the rest. but the tradeoff is that when you purposely foster an agent of chaos, if you do your job right, eventually said agent will become impossible for even you to control. in other words, Tomura has agency now that he lacked before. and AFO -- who has already screwed himself over with his own arrogance in the past more than once -- might have just done so again without realizing it.

lastly, as for whether or not he actually planned what happened to Tenko, that’s the million dollar question. right now it seems like it could go either way. but as I’ve said, the whole thing just played out a little too perfectly from AFO’s perspective for me to believe he didn’t have a hand in it. he may have lucked out with some things, like Kotaro’s whole being-terrible thing, but he might also have helped fan those flames in subtle ways. and if nothing else, he probably had contingency plans if this didn’t pan out.

but as it happens, it played out even better than he expected. and at the end of the day it probably wasn’t too hard to predict that if he suddenly gave an abused kid a quirk that instantly destroyed anything and anyone he touched, it was bound to end in tragedy. that’s really the most sinister thing about the whole plan, in hindsight. how shockingly simple it all was. he probably thinks it was very elegant. masterpiece, indeed.